Whole World Blind
by chossytoss
Summary: One year post-Reapers, T'Soni Intel Group is set to become the forefront of intergalactic cooperation through its ambitious new partnership with the Systems Alliance. In the end, their glorious era of peace lasts less than 24 hours. Now, with the body of a friend laid at her feet, Liara T'Soni must bury her own grief to find justice in a galaxy that will kill her for trying.
1. Killers Old and New

**A/N:** Hey everyone, just a few things: as this progresses, you may notice that I go a little AU with some character histories here, so I want that out in the open before it gets to the point of absurd confusion. So don't get too mad at me. And the second thing - enjoy! You're awake, I'm awake, let's do this.

* * *

 _ **Illium – Nos Astra**  
T'Soni Intel Group  
17 June _

"Lieutenant Commander," greeted a bold voice from the threshold of the door, its normally forceful potency now colored with a hint of curiosity, friendlier and less aloof than she once recalled.

Ashley jerked her head sideways at the unexpected arrival, the sharpness of the movement sending a spasm of familiar pain down the entirety of her right side. She failed to hide her grimace, both the casual use of her defunct title and the accidental flaring of her old injury proving too much to stifle.

"Shiala?" she returned in earnest, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to relax her stiffened muscles. "No one told me you were coming today."

"I apologize, Lieutenant. Liara agreed to meet me early."

"It's alright. And, it's just Williams now."

Hearing the correction issued so resolutely, even from her own mouth, felt curiously foreign.

Considerable time, rigorous physical therapy, and her coveted new admin position at TIG had certainly softened the blow of being discharged from the Alliance, but the injury that caused it was a lasting one.

Shepard was dealt a considerably raw deal in the last push against the Reapers, the severity of his injuries matched only by the extensive span of time it took to rebuild him anew - again. But he was not alone in his suffering, whether he wished it or not, as the final charge to the beam had not been kind to his squad, either. Liara had at least escaped relatively unscathed, save for myriad superficial wounds and some painful burns, but Ashley took the brunt of the explosion that sidelined them both. The ordeal earned her a spinal fracture that would certainly have ended in paralysis or death had she tried to keep fighting, but in the end it mattered little.

The Commander still won without his squad to follow him, and the Alliance slapped her with a medical discharge anyway.

In the long and arduous aftermath, Liara clung to her bedside like a lost puppy while the _Normandy_ lay stranded. She had been withdrawn, confused, even angry, and the conflicting feelings of sororal attachment to Ashley and its accompanying survivor's guilt served only to compound her grief.

Later, when the cost of victory was not so grim, Liara managed to find forgiveness for Shepard and his self-sacrificing heroics, but Ashley was not so easily healed. Liara personally funded her surgery and subsequent recovery using her own private assets, even going so far as to safely relocate the surviving members of the Williams family closer to the hospital where she convalesced, slowly.

When she was back on her feet (more or less), Liara offered her a job, claiming that there was no one better suited – except perhaps Shepard – to manage the combat outfit of her newly reestablished information brokerage.

When it came to it, Ashley found it impossible to refuse. Who would she be if she did?

"I'm sorry," Shiala corrected, lowering her gaze out of habit, ever respectful. "I heard you had been injured. I did not realize it was permanent. Do you still serve as Spectre?"

"In theory," conceded Ashley, frown souring at the grim reminder that her brief tenure as humanity's (second) best had both started and ended in a hospital bed. She had the security clearance awarded by her position if she wanted it, but her ability to undertake practical missions was severely diminished. "Mostly I just coordinate ground operations for Liara now."

"I see," came Shiala's measured response, startlingly green eyes – only a fraction darker than the rich olive of her skin – fixed on the mess of datapads and document charts scattered on the surface of the conference table where Ashley was currently sitting. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Not at all," assured the former LC with practiced confidence, shelving her discomfort in favor of a courteous shake of the head.

Her many months spent on Illium had required more bowing and ass kissing than her military service ever did, but if there was anything she learned from working under Liara, it was that diplomacy could be both be shield and spear. Her oath may have been released and her ranking stripped, but she was still a soldier. Weaponry was her strength, and she would sharpen whatever was placed in her hands.

"None of this is confidential," she amended, sensing the unease radiating from the asari commando as she lingered in uncertainty by the door. "And anyway, I highly doubt Liara would consider your presence a security breach."

"She might," countered Shiala, vague hesitancy in her words not matching her rigidly composed demeanor. "Do you know where I can find her?"

"She was just here, but I think she stepped out. She should be back in – nevermind."

Ashley snorted at the arrival of the newest person to the room, timing so precisely perfect. The asari might adamantly deny it until her face flushed purple, but Ashley nursed a tiny suspicion that Liara enjoyed the theatrics of playing anonymous underworld linchpin just a little too much - this was hardly the first time she had made a fortuitous entrance.

"Shiala," greeted Liara with a thin smile, extending both of her hands to grasp those of her companion. The exchange was polite, but short, the elder asari ushered inside as Liara gestured toward the conference table. "I hope your journey was not unpleasant. Sit with me?"

"Of course. I did not intend to intrude on your combat specialist," added Shiala, sending another apologetic nod toward the human onlooker still seated in her chair.

"It's no intrusion. I'd actually prefer Lieutenant Williams to stay."

Ashley shrugged her acquiescence, no reason to protest. Privately, however, she wondered. Liara rarely ever referred to her so formally, even in the professional setting. It was always Ashley, or Williams when directing her field operatives, or Ash – if she was drunk enough. But Lieutenant? Definitely odd.

Shiala made no comment, instead taking the proffered seat in silence.

"So what is it you wished to discuss?" prompted Liara, sparing Ashley only a cursory glance.

"I know you have much to prepare for tomorrow," began Shiala, some of her initial reticence beginning to dissipate, "but I want to ensure that you have accounted for your own safety."

If Liara was surprised by the topic, or its deliverer, she showed no physical sign. Her countenance remained stoic, her expression one of appraisal.

"I have been forced to appear in public many times since the war. Should this be any different?"

The question itself was a rhetorical one, a polite reminder that young in years though she may be, she was no stranger to politicking. She grew up in its shadow, and further watched Shepard openly outmaneuver his opposition through the entirety of the war. Since his departure for Palaven, where he was serving as an attaché to Primarch Victus, Liara had taken up the burden of the spotlight herself. It was, to borrow one of his expressions, not her first rodeo.

Shiala seemed to disagree.

"It is. It should be. Illium is not Thessia, nor is it Earth. You should take precautions."

"And which precautions are those?" posed Liara, hint of frostiness, of burgeoning impatience.

"You need a security attachment."

"I am more than capable of defending myself, as you know."

True, she knew that the past few years had hardened Liara into both a skilled warrior and a reputable information broker, but the enthusiasm in her quick response hinted at the willful recklessness Shiala feared.

"Biotic skill is no guarantee of your safety. Nothing is. But a protection detail makes you a hard target."

Liara released a sigh, born not of frustration, but of concession. The caution the former commando preached wasn't wrong, per se, but the issue was far more intricate than she realized.

"I cannot give a speech praising unity and cooperation surrounded by armed guards."

"Just one guard. No one else needs to be on that stage with me."

"You volunteer yourself for this?" asked Liara, sharp edge to her question, already knowing the answer.

"Of course I do."

"When last I checked, you were content in your position as warden of my estate. Has something changed?"

"Any commando can secure an empty house. Let me protect _you_."

Satisfied that she had at least forced Shiala to openly admit her motivation for coming to Nos Astra with such urgency, Liara relaxed her position in her seat somewhat, mind still churning with deliberation.

When Shiala had first contacted her, days ago, asking for an audience, she insisted that there was nothing wrong, only that she be allowed to visit TIG to discuss something in person. Liara suspected, within the confines of her own silent doubts, that it might involve this particular brand of job dissatisfaction, and had been preparing for her arrival accordingly.

Still, it was not altogether comforting to have those suspicions confirmed, because it only made the next part of this meeting all the more difficult.

"I have to respectfully decline, Shiala. I'm sorry."

Credit to her training and to her many centuries of practiced diligence, Shiala's expression remained determinedly neutral. The shock, and what sounded eerily like hurt, was all in the voice.

"What? I cannot believe you would be so –"

There was a rather distinct medley of unfavorable adjectives that might fill that blank, and Liara had very little desire to hear exactly which one she was being accused of. She held up a palm, as much of a pacification as it was a command.

"I have to decline because the role you seek is already filled."

"By who?"

"Lieutenant Vega. He is my Chief Security Advisor and my personal escort, when I need him."

The assertion did little to placate Shiala, whose jaw was clenched in an attempt to suppress the frustration she would rather have kept private, away from those she did not know well – Ashley, presumably.

"You chose a common soldier, over me?"

"Yes. An _Alliance_ soldier. Tomorrow I formalize the partnership between the Systems Alliance and T'Soni Intel Group, and who I bring with me is just as important as what I say. Vega is the ideal choice. He is easily recognizable as a human war hero, even this close to the Terminus. I need to use him. This isn't personal."

"You're lying," contended Shiala with unflinching confidence, studious gaze narrowing to a glare.

Liara, who had expected some degree of resistance, was taken aback by the intense certainty now returned in reflection. Shiala had issued the verdict so casually, so beyond doubt in her conviction that it unsettled Liara, who could not help the memories that pricked at the back of her mind.

Being raised by one parent, and an eternally busy one at that, Liara quickly learned to navigate the shortcuts to her mother's attention while still a small child. Minor behavioral infractions were easily forgiven when faced with unfettered affection from her daughter, a soft spot Liara often used to her advantage - Benezia was never a very rigid disciplinarian. Her favorite acolyte did not share that particular vulnerability, however, and on the rare occasion that Liara inspired the fierce anger of the habitually unflappable commando, the experience had been terrifying, and shameful.

But that was decades ago, and Liara had come a very long way from the petulant youth living in the shadow of the T'Soni name. She no longer had reason to fear the omniscience of her surrogate guardian from an era past, and no duty to oblige her disappointment.

"Of course it's personal," pressed Shiala, undeterred. "Your Lieutenant may be a war hero, but has he ever led a security assignment? What is his training compared to mine?"

"James is N7. And he guarded Shepard when he was grounded," chimed Ashley, unable to keep the hint of defensiveness from leeching into her words. So far she had done nothing but idly observe the somewhat tense exchange between the two asari, but she was beginning to understand why Liara wanted her to stay. She needed someone to back her up, someone that would not relish hearing James dismissed so easily.

"And that makes him superior?"

Liara chose not to rise to the appeal, refusing to avert her gaze at the engagement it begged. Her decision was already made, long before Shiala ever set foot in the room, and she did not want to betray any hint of uncertainty or weakness that might indicate otherwise.

"James is a good choice – the only choice."

"Just not the best one. I think you are making a mistake."

Even had Shiala not flung the words as insult, as admonishment, her misgivings were all too transparent. It was in the way she held herself, unease lining her shoulders below darkened, penetrating stares. Still there was pride, and hints of that immovable strength of will Liara still envied even now, but it was eclipsed by the chafings of obstinate distrust.

It was, unfortunately, an apprehension they both shared.

"Why have you stopped checking in with your doctor?" prompted Liara, no longer able to conceal the source of her exclusionary judgment.

Visibly disconcerted by the abrupt change in direction, Shiala stiffened, previous insistence giving way to stunned silence.

"How do you know this?"

"This is my career. My network has extensive resources on Thessia."

"And you use them against your own people?"

"Only when I must," returned Liara, the impatience she had denied flickering once more. "Your counselor contacted me after you failed to show up for the fourth time, and you refuse to answer her calls. She – _we_ – have reason to be worried. If you did not want me to know, you should not have listed me as your emergency contact."

It was not her intent to make the comment sting, but neither did Liara appreciate the insinuation that she somehow gained a perverse pleasure in monitoring her friends and colleagues.

"I have no other family. The Ferosi are dead, or gone home. Who else is there?"

A piece of her heart ached to hear it, but Liara could not afford the distraction.

"Shiala. _Please_ tell me why you avoid your counselor."

Reluctant to give it though she may be, the answer was not an overly complicated one. After the war, Shiala had been somewhat of a mess, stashed in a crumbling field hospital on the outskirts of London. Much of the three weeks she spent in suffering were a haze, a drug-induced amalgam of pain, vivid hallucinations, and the slow, crushing acceptance that most of her colonists were dead.

It was Aethyta that found her, entirely by coincidence, and it was only a matter of days before Liara named her warden of the T'Soni Estate and shipped her home to Thessia. Aside from generous pay, part of the bargain they'd struck included regular physical therapy sessions, intended to strengthen and restore her unstable biotics.

That Shiala had stopped going, without warning or leave, did not bode well.

"That is not your concern," she finally responded, unfaltering affirmation still purposefully evasive, her answer not much of an answer at all.

"I don't understand. It _is_ my concern - you agreed this was necessary, you assured me you would go."

"I know the limits of my biotics," assured Shiala, evasive, turning inward at the growing burn of unexpected scrutiny. "But I don't need them to be effective. I have been sworn to your family since before you were born."

"Yes, you have. But that's not a risk I can afford to take. Even if I could choose you, I would not. I'm sorry."

Her brooding intensity seemed to drain away, broad shoulders hunching just slightly, gaze cast downward. Shiala was silent, her rigidity shaken, stolen away at how sharply – how quickly – Liara had offered her rejection.

"This is your final decision?"

"It is."

Shiala nodded just once, the motion brisk, rising from her seat with renewed vigor. She was determined to leave, and leave quickly, her mask of professionalism still intact.

"Then I will return to Thessia, as you ask."

"What – now?" cut in Ashley, surprised that the same commando who had been so eager to swear a vow of service just moments earlier was now posed to flee.

"What reason do I have to stay?"

It was, intentionally so, a question voiced with no need of answer. Liara remained seated, pensive, not wanting to further the sting of refusal any more than she already had.

"You are always welcome at TIG," she promised, her words softer than necessary for fear of sounding disingenuous.

Just steps away from the exit, Shiala faced her again, her dull assurances of hospitality not quite enough to wash away the salty bitterness of diffidence and dismissal.

"Be careful, Liara. You are very good at what you do, and you might think yourself the biggest player on Illium, but your life is not a game."

When she had gone, Ashley turned her attention back to the only other occupant in the room.

"You good?"

"She has no idea who I really am. What I'm capable of," hissed Liara, her reflexive answer tinged with a familiar iota of venom.

"She would if you told her."

"I can't do that. Enough people know as it is. And anyway – what does she think is going to happen? You'd think Athame herself had threatened to strike me down, to hear her talk. I don't know what she's afraid of. James cleared every single person on that guest list. Nothing will happen."

"Yeah," mused Ashley, wary. "Famous last words, Doc."

* * *

 _ **Citadel – Wards**  
Docking Bay E24  
17 June_

Heeled black boots clicked against the smooth surface of the sterile tiled floor, their wearer pacing the span of the room for the – no – she lost count somewhere after the two hundredth time. Impatience clung to the woman's every feature, gloved hand running through raven hair with increased frustration.

The walls of her current trap were austere, brightly lit but completely bare. In one corner lay a metal cot for more permanent guests, but she had entertained the idea of sitting and waiting only briefly, having taken to prowling the length of her cell hours – had it been hours? – ago.

When the lock on her door finally glowed green and disengaged, her footsteps came to a sudden halt. In strode an asari without reservation, her confidence unshaken by the cool glare she received as welcome.

"Councilor Tevos," greeted the prisoner with distaste, arms that had been wringing in displeasure now folded across her chest.

"Miss Lawson," returned the asari, politeness just a touch overplayed. "I apologize for the circumstances in which I say this, but it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Miranda bristled, unfazed.

"If that were true, we would be shaking hands somewhere on the Presidium, not in a C-Sec holding cell."

Tevos released a controlled breath, her palms clasped behind her back, her demeanor that of rehearsed contrition.

"Temporarily detaining you was the easiest way of securing your cooperation. I trusted Commander Bailey to inform you that you are not under arrest, but you do have an impressive track record of evading the authorities on this station."

"Ah," intoned Miranda, shrewd gaze alight with challenge. "This is about my _track record_."

"The Council is well aware of your past with Cerberus, that is no issue. And we are aware that you are currently under contract with T'Soni Intel Group out of Illium."

"That's hardly public record, but it's no secret. I doubt Dr. T'Soni will take kindly to one of her top field operatives being held against her will."

"Your lost time will be reimbursed, I assure you. As soon as you hear what I have to say, you are free to leave."

Interested, but not altogether reassured, Miranda frowned with skepticism.

"What exactly do you want from me?"

Shoulders pressed in stiffness, hands still folded in composure, the Councilor revealed only the smallest hint of a smile.

"I want to make you a Spectre."

* * *

 _ **Citadel – Presidium**  
Council Chambers  
17 June_

Only dulled noise filtered through the insulated walls of his office, the expanse of the Citadel skyline visible through his window long since darkened. Sparatus keyed the audio on his private omni-tool, keeping his voice low, but determinedly still.

"Is it done?"

 _Tomorrow_.

His reply was curt, but decisive.

"Make it clean."

* * *

 _ **Illium – Nos Astra**  
Xelvara Plaza  
18 June _

"Kid," called Aethyta over her shoulder, tone lowered to little more than a whisper, determined to keep herself out of earshot of anyone daring to listen.

Liara, preoccupied with the datapad in her hands, did not bother to turn her attention toward the familiar voice in her ear.

"Is something wrong, _Dad_?" she teased, retaliating in jest with her chosen emphasis.

"Could be," confirmed her father, unmoved by her daughter's feigned indifference. "Who's the asari at the end there, sitting by herself?"

Curious, Liara glanced up from her datapad, doing her best to affect an air of neutrality – one of them had to, if Aethyta insisted on staring so blatantly.

"Valya Kerintis. She's a representative for the Asari Republics, from Serrice. Why?"

"What's she doing here?"

"I assume the Republics want to show their support of my peacekeeping endeavor, as they should – more than half of our profit comes from Thessian clients. A public endorsement makes them look good, and I continue to sell generously to them."

"Did you clear her?"

"Yes of course I cleared her," returned Liara, unable to resist rolling her eyes.

"Uh huh," mumbled Aethyta, not fully listening. "Think I'll go introduce myself."

Aethyta rose from her chair, abrupt but surprisingly graceful, still eyeing the strange asari with a predatory gleam.

" _Please_ be polite," urged Liara, still firmly seated, clutching her datapad. "And don't hit on her!"

Her exasperated plea of diplomacy went ignored, Aethyta crossing the considerable length of the stage with powerful strides. A few various passerby glanced in her direction as she did so, but most were still too focused on ushering guests and preparing for the speech to pay her much notice. Even so, she had long since learned to appreciate the fickle nature of a private conversation, and she dropped herself into the chair directly adjacent to the asari in question. Her encroachment was blunt, but not yet hostile.

If the asari – Valya – was perturbed by her closeness, she hid it well. She barely flinched at the new presence.

"Matriarch Aethyta," she greeted, unerringly pleasant, something of a smirk plastered to indigo skin. "How lucky I am to meet you on this lovely evening in Nos Astra."

"Save it," snapped Aethyta, harsh tones scratching in warning. "I don't know who you are, and I don't care. If I catch you sniffing around, I will hurt you."

"Well," continued Valya, sighing deeply, "you certainly are less friendly than your employer."

The accusation was an interesting choice of words, to be sure, but also a valuable reveal. It was confirmation, at least, that the Matriarchy was still in the dark about the extent of her relationship with Liara. Still, it was small comfort, and it did little to quell the vexing suspicion in Aethyta's gut.

"You can kiss her ass all you like, but I don't buy it. Republics never do anything without an ulterior motive. They wanted a poster girl, they'd have sent someone famous. Instead they sent you. You're here to do their dirty work – no shit. You a commando?"

Valya, still smiling falsely at the chatting, ignorant crowd of guests below her, conceded nothing.

"I am merely a representative of the asari government, here to support TIG in its new venture."

"Then tell them to keep their distance. This is my assignment, my business. Don't get in my way."

"And how would I do that?" prompted the matron, unable to turn her head toward the asari hissing warnings in her ear without brushing cheeks.

Refusing the question, Aethyta gripped the back of the seat instead, knuckles clenching as she leaned closer still.

"Stay away from Liara T'Soni."

Then she shot from the chair, her back straightened with professionalism once more, leaving Valya to track her gaze upward.

"Give her my regards, will you? I do believe the speech is about to start."

Aethyta grunted in irritation but did not give her the satisfaction of a real response, already halfway back to her seat by the time the latter half of Valya's parting words registered.

The plaza had indeed gone quiet, the sea of guests watching the stage with rapt attention. Aethyta made it to her seat at the far end of stage right as Liara – sandwiched dead center between Vega and Traynor – rose from hers. Bright flickering of flashing cameras dotted the crowd as Liara approached the podium, illuminance matched by the glittering stones tastefully woven into her formal gown. She wore a controlled smile, any hint of nervousness masked by dark lines of makeup and practiced poise.

"Good evening," she opened coolly, quieting the last pockets of hushed murmurs. "And thank you all for coming on such a beautiful night."

Several stray guests smiled, politely engaged, but most were journalists or the like, eagerly yet stoically awaiting the next piece of her proclamation.

"Tonight, on this beautiful night, we are gathered to commemorate the year that has passed since the galaxy made its courageous last stand against the greatest enemy it has ever faced. In the spirit of the unity and commitment that brought an end to the Reaper War, I am pleased to announce that T'Soni Intel Group has pledged its resources in partnership with the Systems Alliance."

A small round of applause broke out, but quickly died out as Liara continued in confidence.

"With this new partnership, we aim to establish ourselves as the voice of cooperation between humanity, the Attican Traverse, and even the Terminus Systems. Our nations and people have always survived among divisions of colonization and jurisdiction, but in the wake of destruction that threatened to consume every last planet, every home, we recognize that survival is no longer enough. If we are to claim our victory, we must stand stronger and wiser in this new era of peace. We hope to inspire reconciliation and humility among _all_ other races – among _all_ those left behind to rebuild our civilization from ashes and flourish anew. Only then have we truly won."

More applause, peppered with audible cheers, cameras flashing with renewed vigor. Liara's smile grew, stretching from polite signifier to genuine joy, the pulsing of the crowd contagious.

"To accept this offer of friendship on behalf of the Systems Alliance, I am honored to present our dignified keynote speaker, and my personal friend. Please welcome Specialist Samantha Traynor."

Traynor rose to her feet somewhat shakily, returning Liara's encouraging smile with one of her own, albeit somewhat strained. She did her utmost best to block out the noise and jitters of the crowd as she approached the podium, exhaling deeply.

"Well," she started, her breath turning to a quick, nervous laugh. "I'm not so sure about dignified, but I am flattered to be here speaking with you all tonight. I won't bore you with lectures about cooperation and peace, as the eloquent Dr. T'Soni has already said it far better than I ever could. I know that with the support of her company, the Alliance will continue to expand and improve its commitment to rebuilding, and we are thrilled to begin this new partnership."

An additional smattering of applause, Sam using the brief respite to glance backward at her companion just briefly, still working up her nerve.

"But before we get to the proverbial cutting of the ribbons, I do want to share a little story. By the time it is finished, I hope that the galaxy understands just how indebted it is to Liara T'Soni. It's true there are entire publications dedicated to speculating about what went on behind the scenes of the Normandy SR-2, and while most of it is fabrication, you are not wrong to call its crewmembers heroes – myself excluded, of course."

A few indulgent laughs, and Sam released another steadying breath.

"You see, when I first began serving on the Normandy at the outset of the Reaper War, I was just a lowly comm specialist in the right place at the wrong time. I was so out of my depth that I barely knew how to salute, and in storms Commander Shepard, the _famous_ Commander Shepard, barking something about Mars and the Prothean Archives. It wasn't until he mentioned Liara, someone I had only seen on the vids, that I realized just how _completely_ –"

The next several seconds were an impossible blur, surreal.

A body dropped to the floor of the stage, no warning, no sound other than the echoing thud of limbs pulled downward with extreme force. Liara jerked backward in her seat, suspended in shock as she recognized the damp, clinging sensation of being covered in crimson red blood – human blood. There were murmurs of confusion, some stray cursing, then the murmurs slowly descended into outright panic. The screaming started just as Liara seemed to unfreeze, adrenaline mounting as she grasped what she was looking at.

Samantha Traynor lay slumped on the ground, unmoving, the back of her head torn open.

Dead.

* * *

 _ **Illium – Nos Astra**  
Eternity  
18 June_

Shiala sat alone at the edge of the bar, her back to the rest of the patrons milling throughout the club. Churning green irises were fixed on the screen above her, ignoring the flickering pang of disquiet as she watched Liara take the stage in silence – the music drowned out the audio all too easily.

She had been nursing her drink in solitude, the slouch of her shoulders and brooding, focused gaze enough to ward off anyone bothering to approach. She was in no mood to force friendly conversation, not when beneath her stoic exterior brewed tense introspection, a roiling mixture of odium and despair.

Had she truly been so foolish? To think – worse, to _presume_ – that Liara would welcome her guidance? That their shared history from days long past would negate all that had happened since?

The falling out between Benezia and Liara had been gradual, a painful spiral of insolence and resentment, before finally ending in icy silence the day Liara left. Shiala, for her part, had spent the intermittent years conflicted, torn between her loyalty to the woman she admired and served, and the affection she bore for the maiden she had known since birth.

But that was before Saren, before Benezia made her last and greatest mistake, before they had all followed her into unwilling servitude, before Shiala had been betrayed and left to die on her orders, before Shepard and Liara tracked her to Noveria. And killed her.

The memories itched at the former commando like an old wound, her stomach tight with unease as she tossed back the remaining dregs of her drink, warm liquor soothing briefly, the burn palliative.

How pathetic she must have sounded, offering her service to Liara so desperately. Her rejection had been polite, tactical even, and her words cautious, but she could not fully mask her suspicion – the suspicion that Shiala was unstable, lost, clinging to the last threads of a life forsaken.

Was this not so? Was she not slave to past wrongs?

She had failed to protect Benezia, and here she sat alone, watching her only child take to the podium as if she were born for it. Even through the veil of the screen, she exuded both a distinct elegance and a profound sadness, far beyond her years.

Shiala dropped her gaze, the old wound aching anew. The enormity of her failure ran deep, indeed.

A flicker of sudden movement on-screen flashed in her periphery, and reflexive instinct snapped her attention in its direction. In the brief instant that Shiala had looked away, something had violently and drastically changed.

The camerawork was unsteady, obviously reacting to whatever was happening, but shakily its operator managed to fixate on the stage, its view partially blocked by the fleeing of panicked guests. Shiala watched closely, heart hammering with equal parts thrill and fear as she watched the frenzy.

At last she glimpsed the stage, camera zooming as it panned. A human lay sprawled behind the podium unmoving, Liara sitting in frozen stillness just feet away. A familiar purple-skinned asari – Aethyta, she realized – stepped over the body, her posture stiff with command as she yanked Liara out of her seat – Liara was covered in _blood?_ –

The screen went dark.

The bartender, a salarian who had been paying the screen little mind as he worked, glanced at it with mild interest, but turned his attention back toward the commando as he caught her gaze.

"Another drink, miss?"

Shiala, still reeling from the ephemeral carnage she had just witnessed, failed to respond.

"Miss?"

"What? No – no thank you. I need to leave."

"Closing out, then? Kiosk is down the other end."

"Can I order a taxi from there?"

The salarian shrugged, unbothered by her apparent urgency.

"Sure. Might be cheaper to walk, though. Where are you headed?"

Her expression was grim, unchanging. She glanced once more at the screen, its broadcast cut short.

"Xelvara Plaza."

Shiala never took much satisfaction in being right.

* * *

 _ **Illium – Nos Astra**  
Xelvara Plaza  
18 June_

Her limbs refused to move, widened eyes locked on the body – corpse – at her feet, unable to tear her gaze away even as urgent voices began to filter through the lingering haze of shock.

– _Jesus fucking Christ –_

– _need to move –_

 _– Vega get your ass on the perimeter –_

– _come on, Kid, wake up –_

Someone latched onto her bicep, hauling her upwards and out of her seat, another hand hovering at the back of her neck and applying pressure as they moved, forcing her to keep her head down. A few frantic, harried moments of beating feet and blurred shouting, and Liara was shoved into a waiting skycar, her father sliding in close behind.

Ashley, who had called for the vehicle as soon as the chaos erupted, took the helm, gunning them away from the plaza before the door had even fully closed. When they had safely disappeared into a stream of passing traffic, the entirety of the last two minutes caught up with her, and Liara noticed herself shaking.

She looked down at her hands, trembling, splattered with deep red. When she touched the pads of her fingers against the same dampness on her face, she recoiled with a dry, strangled expression of horror. Suddenly her chest tightened, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs, shallow breaths coming out as clutching, panicked gasps.

Aethyta, who had been scanning the passing traffic for signs of pursuit, jerked sharply toward her daughter as she began to hyperventilate.

"Hey," she ordered, gentle, yet stern. "Easy, okay? Take it slow."

"I can't," choked Liara, straining against the reassuring hold on her shoulder.

"It's over, okay? Calm down, try to breathe. Go slow."

"She –"

"It's over. We got you out, Little Wing," Aethyta tried again, softer this time, pressing some of her own fear, her own relief into her the stabilizing grip of her hand.

"I just watched her die."

Her breathing slowed, the panicked haze clearing, but her own words sunk in with brutal clarity, and she promptly leaned forward and vomited into the floor of the skycar.

"Need me to find a doctor, Ma'am?" asked Williams, eyes making brief contact with Aethyta through the rearview.

"Shot of ryncol would do, if you ask –"

"No," cut in Liara sharply, resting once more against the back of the seat. "Please. Just take me home."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! Always open to feedback. And brunch.


	2. Of Sinking Ships

**A/N:** Round 2. Sunday Funday. Let's get it. **  
**

* * *

 _ **Illium – Nos Astra**  
T'Soni Intel Group  
18 June_

Four people sat gathered around the sleek glass oval situated in one of the many conference rooms, a muted, uneasy silence hanging between them, its dismal atmosphere a mockery of the friendly round table their company represented.

Liara sat furthest from the door, her back facing the oversized window exposing the vast expanse of the illuminated Nos Astra skyline, bright towers and passing taillights undimmed even with the lateness of the hour.

Had it only been four hours since she stepped up to that podium? Already it seemed as if days had passed, though the minutes themselves felt suspended and tortuous, a strange paradox of reality and paralysis. It was only this morning that she had felt the bloom of untainted hope - hope that her very bold, very public affiliation with the Alliance would provide even a glimpse of the future she had so desired. A future without war, without deception - without horror; as of four hours ago, that future no longer existed.

It was all so surreal.

She turned to the others, huddled together in exhaustion and mourning.

Ashley bore all the signs of a brave face, her jaw set and eyes dry, but she was visibly shaken. The normally unfaltering ex-soldier tended to handle crisis with emphatic cursing and aggressive, resolute action, but whatever energy she possessed in the immediate aftermath – where she had quickly and expertly maneuvered Liara to safety – was now drained. Her eyes were downcast, skin paled.

James sat beside her, equally deflated. He seemed smaller than usual, spiked hair now lying flat on his head, his broad shoulders slumped. One of his hands curled around Ashley's underneath the table.

Closest to the door, seats beside her empty, was Valya Kerintis.

She had been onstage when the rest of the speech party was evacuated, and Liara had no reason to deny the asari representative inclusion, or hospitality at the very least. Aethyta had seemed irritated at the woman's lingering presence, but had little time to protest before she excused herself to carry out what she deemed to be an urgent errand on the Citadel.

Now, Kerintis sat in stillness, but her eyes remained sharp, occasionally glancing at the other occupants of the room with subtle scrutiny. Continuous silence held, the shock and confusion at the night's cataclysmic events having long dissipated into numb anticipation as they waited, isolated.

Unspoken pleas answered, four heads turned toward the door as it slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a composed but altogether stern human female, her clearance granting her entry without interruption.

"Miranda," acknowledged Liara with eagerness, straightening in her chair, vigilance stirring. "Any news?"

"Some. Not as much as I'd hoped for," answered the operative, sliding into an empty chair as she spoke, sparing no additional greeting. "Illium Law Enforcement has assigned Detective Anaya to the investigation, which is lucky for you, really - she's agreed to keep you apprised of her findings."

"Is that not standard?"

Miranda's expression did not yield any great reveal, but Liara thought she detected just a hint of souring in her voice.

"Some of her superiors are unimpressed by your reputation. They requested that Anaya defer any requests for information up the chain of command. I convinced her otherwise."

"Anaya is good people," chimed James with a confirmatory nod. "She'll help us out."

"I am glad to hear it, though I wish I could say I was surprised at the prejudice of the ILE administration - Aethyta has warned me of it many times. I doubt Anaya will change their attitude."

"Unlikely, no. Where is your advisor now? I expected to find her at the Plaza."

Ashley, who had been listening with rapt attention, did not miss the intentional use of the matriarch's professional title. It was a minute detail among more pressing concerns, but it signaled a reminder for caution in the presence of unfamiliar ears - guest though they may be. Miranda had executed the warning flawlessly, simultaneously setting precedent and commanding adherence with a simple word change.

"On her way to the Citadel, as of several hours ago. Perhaps you crossed paths at the docking bay?"

"No, unfortunately. But speaking of waiting - I passed Shiala in the atrium. I assume she is looking for you?"

Liara, surprised, but not altogether pleased, exhaled a sigh of agitation.

"Goddess, she came back?"

"I can talk to her," assured Ashley, interjecting for the first time, itching for a distraction.

"No - there is no need. I will handle it later, but thank you. For now - Miranda, you said you had _some_ news?"

"The medical examiner is still holding the body, but he is expected to confirm the cause of death as ballistic trauma - sniper headshot, no doubt. It would have been instantaneous."

"Small fucking comfort that is," muttered Ashley with bitterness, burning.

"It might be to her parents," returned Miranda, cold disinterest in being provoked all too evident.

"Who watched their child murdered on public broadcast? I doubt it."

"Please stop," implored Liara, familiar nausea rising at the awful images inspired by their brief spat, feeling once more like she was on the verge of being ill. "Both of you, stop. Miranda - are there any leads on the shooter?"

"Anaya has her people sweeping the adjacent buildings in search of possible vantage points, but with a tiered city like Nos Astra - that will take days to complete. The ILE lacks the manpower, not when half their district is manning roadblocks as well."

"TIG has hundreds of capable operatives, dozens within a solar day of Illium. Her investigation will be much faster…" trailed Liara, stopping at the hesitant expression of her colleague. "What is it?"

Miranda paused, steeled eyes fixed in calculation.

"Detective Anaya offered to disclose as much as she can, more than most, but in exchange she requested that neither you nor anyone from TIG interferes in any way. That includes undertaking an investigation of your own."

"What? _That's_ the deal you made? Twiddle our thumbs and hope for scraps?" sneered Ashley, unable to find restraint for her obvious disapproval.

"It was the only choice I was given, and aside from that, I agree with her. Liara - you should stay clear of this. Until we have more details about who killed Traynor and why, we have to assume you are still a target. Not only would you be jeopardizing Anaya's career if you were caught, but you'd risk your own safety as well. I strongly advise caution here."

Liara, who had been distinctly quiet, lifted her gaze toward Miranda in measured calm.

"TIG cannot stay in lockdown indefinitely. I will need to leave."

"I'll be with you when you do," promised James, dark eyes alight with conviction. "Day or night, you say the word and I'm there."

"Good," acknowledged Miranda, pleased with the Lieutenant's obvious dedication. "You should also have an additional security unit standing by at all times, as precaution."

"Agreed," added James, nod firm. "You never know when shit might go down."

"Hang on," cut in Ashley, holding up an instinctive hand to interrupt their little parley. "You want to keep her out of it, that's fine, I don't disagree, but what about the rest of us? I'm not comfortable sitting on my ass if there is something I can do to help - send me offworld if you have to."

"No. You are easily recognizable as a close associate of Dr. T'Soni - you may be at risk yourself."

Liara, her words still lilting with muted sadness, returned her gaze to Miranda.

"Is there no alternative?"

"You do have one option, yes. With your permission, Detective Anaya will authorize me as a special investigator, effective immediately. I would report to you both, but function as an independent operative able to pursue leads outside her jurisdiction. Officially, I would have to resign as a TIG employee to avoid a conflict of interest."

"An attempt to appease her superiors, I'm sure. But I cannot accept your resignation - you would be in breach of contract, for one, and more importantly, your clearance would be revoked and you would have no access to our resources. It would put you in a highly impractical position."

"That does seem a bit pointless, Lawson," admitted Ashley, reluctant.

"Administrative leave then - there must be a clause in my contract that allows for that. Have your people draft an addendum, if they must. Either way, I would still be highly functional without official sanction from TIG. I have my own system of contacts with no formal affiliation to your network, as do you. That should suffice."

The reminder was not a uniquely subtle one, immediately understood by those listening for it, but it was not so unequivocal that Valya Kerintis would deduce that the informal contacts Miranda mentioned included the entirety of the Shadow Broker network, or that the Broker herself was sitting just ten feet away.

"Wouldn't you be in danger, too? Or don't you consider yourself a _close associate_?" posed Williams, fairness of her point colored with challenge.

"As far as this is concerned, no, I don't. I have never made a public appearance with your organization, and the majority of my fieldwork is clandestine. Most of the galaxy will have no reason to suspect otherwise."

Ashley had no further comment, biting down any kneejerk flippancy, needing no further reminder from Liara that it was neither the time nor the place.

"You mentioned something about roadblocks?" prompted Liara, returning the focus back to the concrete.

"Yes. ILE is running checkpoints in every district, hoping to cut off major exit routes and question anyone with information. So far this has only turned up one lead - a guard at Valdira Tower reported a security breach last night. An unidentified turian tripped a silent alarm by using a restricted door after hours, but nothing was stolen, and there were no additional breaches. He forwarded his report to Anaya."

"She believes the two incidents are connected?"

"Possibly. The badge used to access the Tower belongs to an employee that failed to show up for his shift this morning. Right now he is considered missing."

"Is he a suspect?"

"No - not directly, at least. He's an indentured servant, and he has three more years on his contract. He has no money, no colony affiliation, and no record of military service. It's more likely that the actual shooter needed an employee ID with a turian likeness, and he was a convenient target."

"If this guy tripped a silent alarm, how did he manage to disappear?" asked James, skeptical.

"Hard to say. I think it's a safe bet that whoever he is, he has professional training of some kind. Anaya has a unit combing through security archives to try and locate him on camera."

"Valdira Tower has over a hundred stories. That will take them weeks, and they still might not find anything," lamented Ashley, less skeptical than her counterpart, but no more impressed with the lack of definitive answers.

"They may not need to. The employee in question operated a chartered shipping vessel for the Tower's catering service, running supplies between here and a distributor on Omega. That ship is also missing."

"Is there record of it leaving?"

"No. Valdira Tower has its own docking bay, but their logs are incomplete."

"A result of a bribe, certainly?"

"Or just simple stonewalling. I wouldn't waste the time trying to tell the difference, not on Illium. As of right now it is only speculation, but if I _am_ right, you won't need the log. That ship already had docking clearance on Omega, which means your assassin probably fled there. If I left tonight, he would only have a few hours head-start."

"Assuming you make it all," countered Ashley, inserting herself once more. "The Terminus is a shitstorm of never-ending refugees these days. Pirates make a killing."

"I assumed discretion to be implied."

"Operating on Omega is a dangerous risk," cautioned Liara, interrupting their exchange before it escalated into something beyond frayed nerves and displaced emotion. "Aria will not take kindly to any attempt at deception."

The statement was not untrue, but the idea of involving Aria T'Loak in her private affairs - in any capacity - unsettled Liara more than she was willing to admit aloud.

During the early days of the war, Shepard had managed something of a truce with the Pirate Queen, a gesture of mutual respect earned in the wake of a shared and highly productive campaign to destroy Cerberus. Unfortunately the professional relationship between TIG and Omega was tenuous at best, the former rarely finding success without unnecessary cost, the latter all too eager to undermine any threat of rivalry.

On a personal level, Liara felt little connection to the other asari, kindred species notwithstanding. To her Aria seemed a uniquely mercurial being, in possession of brooding temperament despite calculating intelligence, inclined toward hedonism and violence though not devoid of compassion or reason. She was truly the living embodiment of Omega - an image she cultivated with unapologetic hauteur.

All in all, Liara understood her to be a compelling figure, just not an overwhelmingly endearing one, and their current situation already featured enough unknowns without adding further variables. Even if involving Aria proved unavoidable, she would not relish it.

Her combat specialist seemed to share her skepticism.

"More than that, I think we should also consider the possibility that T'Loak hired that assassin."

"I have, and it makes very little sense," countered Miranda, brief edge of hostility replaced with conjecture. "What possible motive is there? Killing an Alliance officer as she is about to accept contract with TIG is blatantly political - and far outside her territory."

"It may not have been political," offered Liara with quiet apprehension, giving voice to the unspoken concern hanging between those gathered around her. From the understated expressions of wariness she received from her companions in response, it was all too clear what they were thinking.

If Aria had somehow discovered her identity as the Shadow Broker, then not only did it pose serious security implications for her entire livelihood, but it might have been just enough to push the warlord beyond the limits of her tolerance - with devastating consequences. If Liara had indeed been exposed, and Sam killed as some kind of brutal statement or vengeance?

For the second time since this unpleasant discussion started, Liara felt entirely too ill to speak.

She was saved the burden of doing so by Ashley, interrupting their silent foreboding with deft redirection.

"Maybe it's just about money. That contract is worth millions."

"Why would she care? Not like she put in a bid for it," offered James in counterpoint, dismissive.

"I don't know. We don't know anything. _Damn it_ ," she hissed, adopted tone of professionalism slipping with suppressed frustration.

Unwilling or unable to allay that particular grievance, Miranda turned her attention directly toward Liara.

"I believe it would be prudent," she began, tentative but firm, "to see where this leads, regardless of who it may or may not involve."

The same silence held, contemplative, stretching on until Liara lifted her gaze toward the human operative awaiting her answer.

"I trust your judgment, Miranda. If you think it best, you have my permission."

Her acquiescence was met with a brief nod.

"Understood."

"And thank you. I am sorry you have to work alone."

"If I may, Dr. T'Soni," came the voice of Valya Kerintis, polite in her deference. "Operative Lawson does not need to endeavor alone. The Republic of Serrice - Armali too, I should think - will gladly lend their assistance. We have a vested interest in your safety, both as an asari citizen and as an integral supplier of private contracting. You may call on us at any time."

"I appreciate the show of support, Miss Kerintis."

"Valya - please."

"Then thank you, Valya, but for the time being, I would prefer to keep this internal."

"Of course. If you change your mind in the future, please call me. Until then, I will leave you with your colleagues - I have intruded on your hospitality long enough. I apologize. Will I need an escort to leave?"

"It was no trouble. And tell my assistant you have authorization to use the main elevator - she will lift the lockdown for you."

"Thank you."

"And, if you see her, would you mind sending Shiala up?"

"Certainly. How will I know her?"

"The green skin is usually a dead giveaway," commented Ashley, somewhat callous, not particularly fussed with the departure of the other asari.

"I'll find her," assured Kerintis, rising from her seat to make her exit. "And...I'm sorry about your friend."

Liara nodded in wordless gratitude, the action automatic, unable to voice an adequate reply.

"I'll be in touch, Dr. T'Soni."

When she had gone, Liara redirected her attention back to Miranda.

"Will you be leaving immediately?"

"Within the hour, if I can manage it," replied Lawson, rising from her own seat in tandem.

"We can go too, if you'd rather talk with Shiala alone. We'll grab one of the bedrooms downstairs in case you need us," added Williams, her tone soft, considerate.

"I appreciate it, thank you. But Miranda, before you go - I never got the chance to ask you about your last assignment to the Citadel."

The operative in question halted her progress toward the door, meticulously crafting her response even as she did so, peripherally cognizant of the curious stares of Williams and Vega.

"It was uneventful," she answered, deliberately terse. "The debriefing can wait for now."

"Alright," relented Liara, latent worry etched into the lines of her expression. "Please be safe."

Miranda nodded, wasting no additional words on further reassurance.

"Await my report."

Her swift exit was followed by Ashley and James, who took their leave of the room with a final nod at their employer and friend, a gesture of acceptance, and encouragement. Neither seemed particularly partial to leaving her alone for what was left of that night, but in truth, Liara would savor these last few moments of privacy.

She had lost control of herself in the immediacy of Sam being killed, an instinctual physiological response to the trauma she had witnessed, drawn into a reflexive outpouring of raw emotion against her will. Her father had helped to mitigate the worst of it, but for hours Liara had been unable to feel anything past her own shock, incapable of performing any meaningful action or thought save for cleaning the blood from her face with numb detachment.

Now, the numbness was threatening to thaw out, despair and guilt rising deep within, and she needed these temporal seconds of peace to regather herself in face of Shiala. Shiala, whom she had rejected, dismissed - even hurt. She could not afford to break down now, not if she wanted to retain whatever professional dignity was left to her.

Shaky resolve renewed, Liara lifted her reticent gaze to the elder asari as she arrived, hovering at the inside of the door, hesitant.

"Can I come in?" she asked with softness, edge of her shoulder leaning against the doorframe in wait.

"If you are here to tell me _I told you so_ , you may as well just say it."

"Forget about that," dispelled Shiala, moving into the room with assured steps. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. TIG is in lockdown, and the rest of my people are safe."

Shiala nodded, viridian eyes still fixed with concern on the maiden sitting her opposite, her distance in tone and expression respectfully tailored, a lingering consequence of their last conversation.

"What will you do?"

Having anticipated some iteration of this question, and having pondered the same in the back corners of her mind from the moment she fled the scene, Liara took a steeling breath, chest rising and falling in quiet resignation.

"The only thing I can. Not right now, maybe not even within the next month, but that contract has to go forward. Whoever the Alliance chooses to take Samantha's place, I will be there to execute."

"It is not my place to criticize -"

"No. It isn't," agreed Liara in cold reminder, features stiffened in resistance. "The contract _has_ to go forward. There is nothing else to be said."

Shiala, though bearing no intention of igniting a futile argument, refused to be deterred.

"Then you might resent me for saying it, but your mother built her life around trying to do what you are doing now, and she would never have taken such a risk so recklessly."

"Yes," snapped Liara, defiant. "Perhaps my mother would have cowered - perhaps she would have placated those trying to dictate her actions. But I am _not_ Benezia, and I do not want nor have I ever shared her life, no matter how you compare them. I have chosen to walk a very different path, and my decision stands. The contract has to go forward, risk or not."

Her conclusive reproach fell into silence, its abrupt end leaving no invitation for further discussion. Liara may have intended otherwise, but the touch of bitterness that tainted her conviction did very little to assuage Shiala.

The maiden waited without comment, her guarded expression one of challenge, expectant, pulling at the edges of old wounds with fresh sting.

"I wish you would trust me," remarked Shiala in withdrawn sadness, penitent gaze searching.

Liara returned neither the stare nor the sentiment, the unease that had lined her stomach for hours now anesthetized, replaced with something harder, more certain.

"So much has changed," she answered, words edged with sorrow, and contempt. "You ask too much."

* * *

 _ **Citadel – Presidium**  
Council Chambers  
20 June_

"Matriarch Aethyta," acknowledged the asari councilor with a polite bow of her head, hands folded neatly atop her desk as she watched her latest visitor enter the confines of her personal office. "Is there a particular reason you have been hounding my assistant all afternoon?"

Aethyta, who lowered herself onto the seat opposite as if she owned it, eyed her with a mix of contempt and amusement.

"No, Tevos. I just missed hearing your ridiculous voice."

"Most people schedule appointments," she reminded the elder asari, who, in their various meetings over the last several centuries, seemed to derive some sort of odd satisfaction from being deliberately condescending.

"Yeah well, gold star for them. I need to talk to you. The rest of your political scheming can wait."

The Councilor sighed, never one to rise to obvious bait.

"It is quite late, you realize. What is so important?"

"Don't be cute. I know you know about Traynor."

"The Alliance soldier? I heard that she was murdered, yes. I imagine it was quite tragic to witness."

"Yeah. One word for it."

"Well?" posed Tevos, still refusing to be swayed by the fervent disregard for civility that was Aethyta. "Why come running to me?"

"So you can look me in the eye and tell me that our government had no part in this."

Silence fell between them, Tevos betraying no sign of surprise, or guilt, or offense – no sign of anything at all. After a moment, she tilted her head a fraction, gaze narrowed in displeasure.

"Is this one of your jokes?"

"Am I laughing?" countered Aethyta, returning the gaze with renewed intensity.

"I am telling you, right now, to your face as you insist, that I had no part in this."

Aethyta snorted, cold, unimpressed by the Councilor's apparent sincerity.

"Yeah. Not what I asked, babe."

Mouth twisting sideways, Tevos exhaled in irritation.

"So you barged in here because, what is it you think? That Asari High Command secretly colluded, without my knowledge or sanction, to kill one arbitrary human soldier, with no foreseeable motive or benefit, while one of its own representatives watched from the stage?"

"Not quite. I think they, sure, _colluded_ , to kill one human soldier, but I think their motive was to fuck with T'Soni and stop her deal from moving forward. Or maybe whoever killed Traynor meant to hit Liara. Take your pick."

Tevos pressed several slender fingers to the edge of her forehead, a gesture of exhaustion, of conceding to the futility of dissuading the embittered matriarch from her misplaced accusations.

"Listen to yourself," she urged, aiming toward a far more logical appeal. "The Republics openly support the work Dr. T'Soni is doing, and at least half of her investors come from Thessia. You will also recall that Valya Kerintis is currently on Illium as we speak, demonstrating that support. Liara is an asset to our people, and, need I remind you – a renowned war hero? _Why_ , in the name of the Goddess, would our government want her dead?"

Aethyta, unstirred by her passionate disavowal of conspiracy, fixed Tevos with a studious glare.

"You know why," she admitted, treading the shallow waters of buried doubts and creeping treachery. "The Matriarchy hasn't changed. They're still a bunch of self-righteous quacks, and half of them are still sore about that Beacon. And the other half probably still hate Benezia, no matter what Liara did to clear her name. She isn't too fond of High Command herself, come to think of it, and right now she's the loudest _young_ voice in asari space. If she ever officially enters the political sphere, well – they might not like how that ends. I know how they operate. They'll want a knife in her back long before then."

Tevos leaned back, considering, curiously unable to summon adamant denial with the same immediacy as moments prior.

"And where does Valya Kerintis fit into these machinations? Is she the one thrusting the blade?"

"You tell me. Never heard of her until two days ago."

"She recently received a promotion inside Serrice Council, and has been serving there for close to a century. That is all I know."

"Uh huh. She on your payroll?"

For the first time since they began speaking, Tevos flashed with anger, returning the glare in kind.

"Of course not, and now you've finally managed to insult me. I assume that is what you wanted?"

"Insult? Nah. Think of it as investigation. I was assigned to monitor Liara T'Soni, and if the Republics are playing dirty in her territory, I damn well need to know about it."

Tevos was silent, fleeting vexation cooling to reflective dispassion. Aethyta was a blunt instrument, a resolute force of certainty thrust upon a galaxy chained by ambivalence, preferring her brisk pragmatism to any form of deliberation or rhetoric. Tevos, in contrast, possessed slightly more useful quantities of nuance, and the stare she fixed on her counterpart was inscrutable.

"What is it, exactly, that you think your role is here, Aethyta?"

"What is that supposed to mean? I told you not to be cute."

"Much has changed since Thessia fell. We cannot afford the luxury of complete transparency, that is true, but I _am_ insulted that you believe the Republics capable of taking such drastic action outside my awareness. If your accusations were true, revealing your suspicions to me would have proved a grave mistake."

Her attempt at rebuke was not lost on Aethyta, but the matriarch adopted an expression of vindication, rather than abashment.

"And then what? You'd put a bullet in my brain too? Finish the threat, Tevos."

"Infer what you wish, but I offer no threat. Merely a warning. I assure you, with complete confidence, that the asari government had no involvement in the death of Specialist Traynor. But," she continued, voice dropping in volume, conciliatory, "you should be careful."

"Why?" pressed Aethyta, her demand sharp, cutting through the Councilor's diplomatic caveat with acuity.

"There are…whispers," she paused, cautious, determinedly vague, "of doubt about your allegiance. Some express concern that you have been compromised."

"Whispers my ass. What do you know?"

Reluctant to overplay her discretion, Tevos leaned back in her chair, as if the physical distance between them might lessen the severity of how closely she was toeing the line.

"I know they wonder if perhaps you are now spying _for_ T'Soni, instead of on her, so to speak."

"Well," conferred Aethyta, frown halfhearted. "That's only the second stupidest thing I've heard all day."

Her relationship with Benezia had been a secret from the outset, the latter trusting only a select few members of her household with the truth: that she had married and mothered a child with her most outspoken - if not fiercest - political and philosophical adversary. In the end that splintering secrecy had been their undoing, and though their inevitable split remained a lingering wound this past century, not once had the Matriarchy – for all their snide speculation – guessed the true parentage of Liara T'Soni.

Still Aethyta found a humor in it, even now, observing with idle amusement as her government fumbled in the dark, unable to piece together why she kept close to the daughter of a traitor.

 _Compromised_. If only they knew.

"You openly accepted an advisory position with T'Soni Intel Group. What should they think?"

"That T'Soni trusts me. Why should they complain? It makes my job a hell of a lot easier."

"Nevertheless," reminded Tevos, not altogether reassured. "I strongly advise caution going forward. Despite your insistence on being disagreeable, I have always respected your commitment to our people. _And_ I appreciate all that Dr. T'Soni has done and continues to do. You both have my support, but trust is running thin among the others. Mind where you tread."

"There a _where_ in particular I should be minding?"

The Councilor exhaled abruptly, something of an exasperated chuckle, unsurprised by Aethyta's persistent complacency.

"It was friendly advice, nothing more. If you are looking for scandalous deception, look elsewhere."

"Oh I will. And now I'll tell you what I told Kerintis: don't get in my way."

"I have no desire to even try," returned Tevos, ignoring the blatant challenge in favor of an accommodating smile. "Now I wish to retire, if there is nothing else to discuss."

"Nope," prompted Aethyta, goading. "Unless you want to know the _actual_ stupidest thing I heard today."

Tevos tilted her head in curiosity, hands folded neatly once more.

"You are clearly going to share it regardless."

"Call me compromised all you want, but so are you, if you really think the Republics would never go behind your back."

Tevos made no indication toward any type of meaningful reply, having already said as much as she possibly could – and, likely, more than she should.

"You are truly one of a kind, Aethyta," she called out instead, watching the retreating form of the elder asari as she saw herself out. A dismissive wave, not bothering to turn around, condescending as ever, and she was at the door.

"Always a pleasure, Councilor."

* * *

 _ **Illium – Nos Astra**  
T'Soni Intel Group  
20 June _

Dull gold light spilled onto black marble, dim morning light casting a shadow on the sole occupant of the couch, two unsteady olive hands gripped around the warmth of her mug.

She sensed the newcomer's quiet approach without turning to face him, saying nothing as he added his weight next to hers, familiar brush of skin against the back of her neck as he offered his wordless greeting.

They stayed that way for a moment, unspoken affection between them, leaving the stillness of the early hour untouched. Eventually James dropped his hand, arm retreating to rest against the back of the leather.

"Doc's got good taste," he remarked after a scrutinous pause, eyes tracing the surrounding luxury of the guest suite with an odd mixture of envy and discomfort. "Expensive."

"Yeah," exhaled Ashley softly, not bothering to follow his gaze. "I doubt even _she_ knows how much money she has."

His brief dalliance into simple conversation had been intended as distraction, something to safely break the silence and temporarily fill the glaring, inescapable void, but it was hopelessly futile. His passing comment about cost and money had only served as a sobering reminder of the harrowing events of the night before, and the lucrative contract that had come at a terrible price.

It did nothing to lessen the tightness in her throat.

"I keep seeing it," she whispered blearily, knuckles white against auburn porcelain. "I've witnessed a lot of truly deplorable things as a soldier, but this wasn't war - this was supposed to be about the _end_ of war."

"I know," agreed James with a heave of his shoulders, dejected.

"It's so fucked up," she hissed, coffee forgotten in the midst of her anger and grief. "Sam was murdered and all anyone cares about is the political ramifications that may or may not follow."

Vega said nothing for a moment, his pause reluctant, tone one of cautious neutrality.

"Liara has to think that way. It's her business - her life. She can't afford not to."

Williams shook her head in fervent denial, turmoil enduring despite his appeal to reason.

"No," she returned, wary. "You didn't know her before the war. Losing the first Normandy fucked with her head. She did a lot of things she never talks about, and for damn good reason. Except this time, without Shepard, if she crosses a line, we _all_ go down with her."

The Marine next to her indulged her warning with quiet consideration, all too aware of how those that did not know her often regarded Liara as mysterious, even intimidating, and he had never forgotten the chill he felt the first time he watched her move in combat, but at his core, he could not bring himself to share Ashley's dread.

"My first loyalty is to the Commander," affirmed Vega, pushing aside whatever doubt plagued his counterpart. "And when he left, I swore I would keep Liara safe. No matter what. I can't turn my back on that."

She met his profession of fraternal devotion with a blazing look, gnawing unease slipping away in the wake of her admiration for the man she had come to love. Her hand reached out to his, bringing it to her lips in fleeting comfort, unshed tears shining.

"I'd never ask you to."

Even if, in the private reservations of her mind, she feared none of them would ever truly be safe again.

* * *

 _ **Citadel – Presidium**  
Council Chambers  
22 June_

Sparatus lounged against the curved seat-back behind his desk, one leg resting atop the other, his posture a reflection of complete comfort, a fading vestige of the luxuriously good mood he had arisen with that morning.

Unfortunately, the arrival of his latest guest guaranteed that his feelings of contentment would undoubtedly deteriorate in rapid fashion, despite his concerted effort to appear otherwise.

Hovering near the entryway was an asari, features unremarkable save for the deep tint of her skin, a shade of blue-green uncharacteristic of most asari he had encountered. Extending down the sides of her face were thin lines of accented yellow, a startling contrast in color that did nothing to soften her visibly agitated demeanor. Her jaw was locked in tight discomfort, eyes narrowed to a contentious glare, arms crossed over her chest.

Sparatus fought to keep himself relaxed, wanting to appear unfazed by her obvious attempt at intimidation, but irritated at her intrusion nonetheless.

"Can I help you with something, Miss Kerintis?"

The woman in question did not acknowledge his greeting, instead releasing a short breath of disgust, still eyeing the turian councilor with displeasure.

"You made one of T'Soni's people a Spectre?"

Sparatus sighed, unfolding his legs and leaning forward in his seat with the air of someone suddenly finding themselves dragged into a distasteful conversation they could no longer avoid.

"Should I even waste breath asking how you came about this information?"

"No," returned Valya evenly, undeterred. "Is it true?"

"Yes of course it's true," came the dry reply, succinct, bordering abrasive.

Kerintis remained unimpressed, shaking her head in disbelief, voice lowered in rough accusation.

"Are you out of your _fucking_ mind?"

"Excuse me?" countered Sparatus with derision, patience draining with every passing second.

"Keeping tabs on T'Soni Intel Group was supposed to be _my_ job - now you've put Lawson on the map, poking around where she shouldn't be. What could possibly have possessed you into thinking this was even a remotelygood idea?"

"It was never my idea," he corrected with defensive pride, insulted at her condescension. "Councilor Tevos wanted another human Spectre for her own reasons."

"And you let her choose the one human candidate employed by TIG?"

"I _let_ her do nothing. All Spectre appointments, even top-secret ones, are unanimous decisions."

"Well then," mocked Valya, tone one of false indulgence. "Why not just hang ourselves now? It would save everyone a lot of time."

"Enough," ordered Sparatus, his own tolerance waning. "Tevos has Lawson on a tight leash. The parameters of her assignment are very clear - she will not be _poking around_ anywhere unless she is told to do so. Obviously I would have preferred a different candidate, but what's done is done."

"Is it obvious? It hardly sounds obvious to me. To me it sounds like you used one hand to shake Lawson's, and the other to cut off your own dick."

It took a great deal of willpower to ignore the blatant provocation attempt hidden underneath her crude imagery, but Sparatus did not alter his expression of cold disinterest.

"It would have been suspicious to protest," he finally intoned, shoulders stiffened in challenge. "Almost as suspicious as, say...a spy for the asari government lurking in the turian embassy. I suggest you leave."

If Kerintis took offense to the abrupt dismissal she hid it well, swallowing any protest in favor of a contrived smirk, one of withholding - and warning.

"Hang onto that leash, Councilor, or you'll lose more than your balls."

"Get out of my office."

Sparatus remained at his desk even after his asari visitor had departed, watching the bright red of illuminated digits crawl along as the minutes passed, ruminating on her parting words against his better judgment.

He could not help but feel a sense of dread, as if he himself were shifting with the glowing numbers, nothing more than passing time personified - an empty vessel counting down to some nameless, inevitable end.

It was far too late to turn back.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading - always open to feedback!


	3. Broken Bread

**A/N:** Short and sweet. Kinda.

* * *

 _ **Omega  
** Afterlife  
25 June_

One gloved purple hand curled around the opalescent glass edge of chilled liquor, the other draped over the top of dark leather with indulgence, familiar red glow casting a dull shadow on the ice of scrutinous vigilance.

She dismissed her guards with a succinct nod, barely sparing them a glance as her guest approached with intrepid steps, taking up on the adjacent couch without need of invitation. Her posture was relaxed, but not lacking focus, turning away the proffered drink with a polite wave of the hand.

A moment passed before either asari spoke, ceaseless rhythm of muted bass beating on below.

"Those tattoos are new," remarked Aria by way of greeting, eyes falling on vibrant yellow markings with fleeting interest.

"I couldn't resist."

The reply was dry, a noncommittal offering of explanation, matched by the faint trace of a smirk etched into the lines of her jaw.

"Mm," agreed Aria in brevity, not bothering to provide further insight. "It suits you."

"High praise, indeed."

Aria released a short breath, paying no mind to the teasing, intentionally provocative tone directed her way. She allowed herself a limited, invigorating pause to savor another taste of her drink before affording her full attention to her latest visitor.

"What are you doing here, Valya?"

The question - pointed, impatient - seemed to sober Kerintis, who quickly dropped her cavalier demeanor, leaning forward with a contemplative expression.

"I assume you are aware of what happened on Illium seven days ago?"

"Yes," returned the self-proclaimed ruler of Omega, bearing no levity for the obvious allusion. "You have been busy."

"The Republic of Serrice had hoped a public seal of approval would inspire friendship with T'Soni Intel Group," elaborated Valya, illuminant crimson further shading teal skin. "You can imagine their disappointment."

"Heartbreaking, I'm sure. Though I'm still waiting to hear how it concerns me."

"It concerns you because T'Soni believes their killer fled to Omega, and one of her people is en route as we speak."

"Expecting to do - what, exactly? Bargain for extradition? I'm impressed that she would have the quad to try. But not even she would be that stupid."

"I think you should let her."

Aria held her gaze, brow creasing in unexpected cogitation, stern countenance fixed on her counterpart with acuity.

"Explain."

Valya deflected the brusque nature of the command with a deferent, placating nod, eager for the opportunity but not so presumptuous that she would neglect gratitude for it. So far she had been waiting with poised restraint, but now, with the opening laid before her, her features seemed to brighten, flickering gold irises glinting with intrigue.

"Liara T'Soni has made a lot of noise of late - certainly you've noticed. She has wealth, a pristine reputation, and influential friends in just about every system. _If_ you were to help TIG with their investigation, I believe it would markedly behoove you. She could be an extremely powerful ally."

"Yes, the darling of Thessia," drawled Aria, bringing the glass to her lips once more, temporary burn a satisfying relish. "I have heard more than a few things about that _pristine_ reputation that have made me...curious."

"You'll have to get in line," remarked Valya, frown of amusement thinning. "The Republics are happy to wave the banner of peace for now, but the things I overhear _are_ troubling. They're restless. If T'Soni pushes too hard, her enemies will outweigh her friends. It would be simple pragmatism for you, but for her - if you were to back her, it would do great things for her life expectancy."

"Tell me. What's _your_ stake in her longevity? That sounds eerily personal."

"Perhaps it is."

"Why?" demanded Aria, biting edge unsoftened.

"Because the Republics are right to be afraid of her. Whether they like it or not, Liara is the face of the new world order on Thessia. It might be my official role to endorse her on behalf of our government, but I genuinely support her message. She's the best thing to happen to the asari people in centuries. I want her to succeed."

"And why would I care about a social revolution? Why would I care about this at all?"

"I thought it obvious," ribbed Valya, frown returning. "She's you."

"I just had this couch cleaned," Aria bristled, uninterested. "I would hate to vomit on it."

"No. You do care," pressed the other asari, determined to persuade. "It's why you sent me to Serrice to infiltrate High Command all those years ago. It's why you told everyone to fuck off and came here in the first place."

Tense silence fell, words hanging between them like barbed wire, unspoken boundary of threat.

"Even if you were right," began Aria, slow, burning. "Even if I deigned to agree with you...there was no need to share this in person. I am tempted to tell you it was stupid. You jeopardize yourself - and me."

"How long have we known each other? When have I ever been stupid?" she countered, challenge light. "No one knows I'm here, I can assure you of that. Your lieutenants would hardly recognize me, and they wouldn't dare question you. I'm still your best-kept secret. So use me."

"What exactly are you volunteering for?"

"Let me be your ambassador for T'Soni," appealed Kerintis, convictive. "Say I convinced her, on behalf of the Republics, to implore your help. You reciprocate, on what appears to be a good faith basis, and soon both you and High Command have her trust, through me. You use both to your advantage, and no one need ever know we had this conversation."

Aria, who had humored her colleague's hypothetical scheming with little expression, remained decidedly unmoved, her penetrating gaze a piercing reflection of ingrained, long-practiced skepticism. Centuries of practice in patiently observing her quarry with unyielding precision paid for itself, and this was no exception.

"You want Aethyta's position."

If Valya was surprised at the keen perception of her motives, she did not acknowledge it.

"I know you rely on her. You have never shared the exact nature of your relationship with her, as is your prerogative, but I know she has provided you intel for centuries. Whatever unofficial partnership the two of you have, I would advise you to drop it immediately. It isn't sustainable."

"But _you_ would be, if I were to guess at where this is going?"

" _Yes_ ," came the heated affirmation, imbued with fervor. "Aethyta's loyalties have always been split. She has never worked _for_ you, and will never be completely yours. The Republics are completely unaware of any connection between you, which has invariably worked in your favor, but time is dwindling. Sooner or later, T'Soni is going to figure out who her real employer is, and when that day comes you're going to want someone on the inside, close to Liara. For better or worse."

"Aethyta is a valuable resource," intoned T'Loak, pensive, hint of warning. "I am not in the habit of discarding resources."

"Has she ever given you intel on TIG?" countered Valya, having already prepared herself for some degree of resistance. "Ever?"

When her artful probing did not receive an answer, Kerintis took it as gratification.

"She can't," she continued, confidence growing. "She can't give you that intel because she's feeding it to our government, and if either they - or T'Soni - so much as even _suspect_ that she's given inside information to you, she is absolutely fucked, and you are left with nothing. It _isn't_. Sustainable. Let me help you where she can't."

Aria appeared to consider the proposition, jaw hard with diligent intent, private thoughts ever inaccessible.

"Did you speak to Aethyta?"

Valya released an abrupt laugh despite herself, recalling her encounter with the matriarch at Xelvara Plaza with a twinge of displeasure.

"It would be more accurate to say she spoke to me."

"And she has no idea who you are, or that you came here. As you say."

"None."

Another beat of silence, vaunted glare locked in ominous disquiet.

"Then give me everything you have on this mystery shooter."

* * *

 _ **Illium - Nos Astra**  
Eternity  
25 June_

"That was worse than I thought it'd be," muttered Ashley, descending the sloping exterior stairs outside the lounge with stiff, measured steps, her back still radiating in soreness after hours of standing.

Standard military funerals were tortuous enough, with the ceremonial march and the honor guard and the flyover tribute, but the memorial service for Traynor - a well-liked, well-known Normandy veteran whose face had been plastered all over intergalactic news for the last week - superseded even that. The proceedings themselves had ended hours ago, but she and Liara had only recently been able to take their leave.

The maiden in question had performed her obligatory display of mourning with great tact, shaking hands and accepting condolences and fielding questions with aplomb, but when that duty had at last been fulfilled, she quietly and severely expressed an inescapable need for a drink.

Ashley, who could not erase the image of Sam's parents receiving their customary Alliance flag in broken grief, welcomed the proposal all too readily.

"Yes," agreed Liara, skin flushed a shade darker than normal, "It was."

"Will you be okay tonight? Do you need me to stay?"

"No. You and James can go home, there is no need to worry about me."

"Slim chance of that," remarked Williams, dry, exhaling a short breath as she reached level ground again. "Any word from Lawson?"

"Not yet. Though I am expecting -"

"Dr. T'Soni!" someone shouted over her right shoulder, drowning out her explanation and forcing both women to halt their progress and attend to the newcomer's interruption.

A solitary asari stood at the crux of the market square, impeccably dressed in dark fabrics, undoubtedly a remnant of the notably large attendance at the funeral. She raised her hand in recognition, offering a slight wave as she flagged the two of them down.

"Dr. T'Soni! A word?"

Ashley sighed, nascent irritation evident.

"If this is another reporter, I swear to God…"

"Dr. T'Soni," repeated the asari, lowering her voice in tandem with her approach, now only feet away.

Liara, who sensed the threat seconds too late, froze, muscles tensed in a rush of anticipation as she saw the knife emerge in her periphery, bracing herself for the impact she knew was coming - but never did.

"The Broker says hello."

Instead she heard Ashley grunt beside her, a strained expulsion of sudden pain, her attacker thrusting upward into her abdomen with one hand, the other braced against the back of the human's neck to keep her upright as she stabbed her a second - third - _fourth_ time.

As she pulled the blade back for a fifth, Liara unfroze.

Her throw was instinctive, sparking biotics propelling the unknown assailant to a safe distance, momentarily stunned, but not lethal. She collided with the ground with jarring impact, stirring only slightly, alive but not yet capable of recovering enough to flee.

" _James,"_ pleaded Liara, scanning the crowd around the bar exit for her incognito bodyguard.

"I have her," answered Vega through her earpiece, hulking form pushing through shocked bystanders as he fought to reach the incapacitated asari before she could escape.

Liara turned back to her left, stomach dropping and heart seizing in panic as her eyes fell on Ashley, slumped to the ground, legs sprawled awkwardly, deep red spilling freely even as she cradled a protective arm to her torso.

Two shaking blue palms added further pressure to the wounds, reactionary, desperation looming.

" _No_ , Ashley - I'm so sorry -"

"You heard what she said?" prompted Williams, her words tired, little more than a mumble, energy draining with each passing second.

"Forget that now. Let me help you," urged Liara, whose wrist was trapped in Ashley's grip, refusing to relent until she was understood.

"You heard her," she repeated, hooded, fading eyes boring into hers, vice hold slacking.

"We need to get outta here, Doc."

Vega.

In her few moments of distraction, his ever-present team of secondary security had apparently responded with swift action, subduing the hostile asari at his command, leaving him to return to where Ashley lay in exhaustion, paling.

The lieutenant's face was set in grim resolve, lifting her off the ground with ease, already issuing further orders to his squad as he did so.

Liara was left alone, the rupture of shock that had fueled her actions now dulled to simmering fury - fury at their attacker, at the unexpected assault that blinded them, at the clawing, inexorable helplessness. It seared within her, steadying, building to something she could neither reach nor avoid, a scream in her throat she could not release.

To her dismay, it was little more than a brief respite, a temporary flex of power imbibed from adrenaline, and it evaporated as quickly as it had come. Her shoulders fell, tension released, despair threatening to overwhelm.

Sirens wailed behind her.

"Yes," she answered to no one, still planted in paralysis on her knees, arms and hands stained with red. "I heard her."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading. Feedback welcome. Cookies also welcome.


	4. Walls of Glass

**A/N:** Well this took longer than expected. It happens, unfortunately.

* * *

 _ **Illium - Nos Astra**  
Unknown Location  
25 June_

Controlled silence clung to the room, its sole occupant relishing in its allure. The task she set herself required continuous concentration, and she had grown so accustomed to the whirring and beeping of her surrounding sanctuary that she no longer registered it as noise at all. She wore a somber expression as she labored at her various terminals, but beneath the determined stoicism of focus, collapse loomed imminent.

For all of her effort otherwise, Liara could no longer ignore the weight that burdened her. It had been eight days since Sam had been brutally murdered right before her eyes, and still she struggled to reconcile the aftermath.

She had not wept. Not that night, nor the one after, nor at the funeral. The acute illness she endured had been temporal, directly proportional to the amount of time she could afford to lose before mitigating the drastic damage Sam's very public death had incurred. Miranda, Aethyta, Shiala, even the foreign diplomat Valya Kerintis had all required her attention, and that was aside from reassessing TIG's contract with the Alliance. To neglect any one of them would have spelled further chaos, so she had neglected her grief instead.

Until someone drove a knife through Ashley as she watched. A knife meant for her.

The attack in Nos Astra had been direct and personal, an obvious act of premeditation by what remained a still unknown enemy. Liara could not guess why they chose Ashley, or if her presence was a coincidence, or if the intent was simply to kill whoever stood next to her. If that were so, then the asari responsible was a terrible assassin. But if the attack's sole purpose was to make Liara suffer, then it was far from a job wasted.

The responding medics weren't sure if Williams would live. She lost a lot of blood before they could administer medi-gel, and it was difficult to assess the damage done internally. Surgery and transfusion posed significant risks. There were no assurances to be had. It was a tortuous reality to accept.

The situation she faced now was parallel to the one she experienced a year ago, and the gnawing dread bore a familiar taste. The former marine had been grievously wounded in her last steps during the final run in the battle for Earth, and while Liara had sustained her own injuries, none of them were permanent. With the Normandy stranded she could do nothing but keep watch at Ashley's bedside, wondering – with no hope for closure – if she would ever walk again.

Then, it had not been guilt that plagued her, per se, but a sense of cruel timing, of the whims of luck favoring her when she had done nothing to deserve it. If she had run an alternate path, or reacted too late, or flung her body in a different direction, it might have been her with a fractured spine instead. In the privacy of her own doubt, she had reasoned that at least she could still function as an information broker even if she were crippled, but Williams had built her entire identity around being a soldier, and the loss transcended physical ailment.

Desperate to alleviate the helplessness, Liara had funded her extensive treatment regimen before extending her a position of great value within TIG. Though their friendship had once been strained, Liara knew Ashley very well, and she knew Ashley would not refuse her offer. She did not view it as an act of charity, but rather a duty upheld, and she believed herself to be acting selflessly. Now, alone in her silence, she questioned even that.

She would never regret the aid she lent Williams, but she knew now that she was foolish to ever think her actions were selfless. Her wartime renown and financial success in the wake of the Reapers had emboldened her to the point of complacency, earning her a political notoriety she had done nothing to diffuse, and in her arrogance, even _enjoyed_.

Worse than that, she had been so willful in her ambition to shape the restoration of the galaxy that she involved her friends without second thought. It seemed a natural evolution at the time, but it was a sinful error of judgment to have presumed that those that vowed loyalty and trust to Shepard would do the same for her, that her personal wars could be fought without a price.

But that delusion was gone, destroyed with the flaying talons of shame, of raw humility thrust upon her by the pieces of her life she had tried to evade. Blood, fear. Hatred. Their shadow had suffocated as she waited without reprieve in the hospital, unbearable, her heart splintering.

So she left, seeking the comfort of distraction, away from the enemy of her own mind.

In an instant, her sedate quiet was broken.

" _Por dios,_ Doc, open the door!"

Liara flinched, startled at the unexpected interruption, and for a fleeting moment she considered ignoring his demand. Another round of furious pounding, and another curse of frustration, and she reconsidered.

James was not the type to be deterred. The hiss of the door sliding open signaled her defeat.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, blazing.

"All units in the Tasale System are standing by, priority code zeta-four. I've just issued the order. If anyone fails checkpoint clearance, I will know."

Her assertion did little to lessen his indignation.

"You couldn't do that from TIG? Huh?"

"No. Not until I can say with absolute certainty that no one there has betrayed me."

"So you just came here alone, no warning, no guard, nothing? All of Illium has eyes on you now. If somebody followed you here – "

"Then I would deal with it," she issued, cutting him off with clear reprimand. "I have been forced into a position of compromise, and I need to correct it. _Alone_ , yes. It was an exigent circumstance."

"It was fucking irresponsible," corrected the Lieutenant, glowering. "I'm your security advisor, not some jarhead dog you leave chained up outside. Next time you leave, I come too. End of story."

His rebuke hit closer than even he intended.

"No," Liara countered with authority, her wavering confliction hardening to grim resolve. "There is no next time. Starting tomorrow your position is terminated, pending reassignment. Williams will be your principal, and you will report to the hospital to secure its premises."

"Hey hold up a second here, Doc – "

"When she recovers," continued Liara, his interruption unheeded, "you will inform her that she is on indefinite leave. She is free to return to Earth, as are you."

"Bullshit. What are you trying to do?"

She hesitated, unsure of how to give words to her phantom sorrow.

"James," she began, meeting his glare with soothing contrition. "I cannot have you stay and risk your life, nor the life of someone you love, for me – no matter _what_ you swore to Shepard. TIG is my path, my business. If anyone else is to bear that burden…it has to be their choice."

Vega fell silent, broad shoulders still stiff. The lines of frustration on his jaw softened.

"Then you already know mine," he returned, anger diffused but determination no less potent. "I don't care if you fire me. I'm staying. And I'm not saying shit to Ashley. You can tell her yourself."

"Why?" offered Liara, too distracted by the loaded implication of his tone to address his unabashed statement of allegiance.

"She came out of surgery an hour ago."

* * *

 _ **Omega**  
Afterlife  
27 June_

Aethyta passed through the exaggerated red ambience of the entry hall unhindered, muted beating of continuous music increasing in volume as she approached the threshold to the club, doors sliding open to reveal Afterlife in all of its unholy grandeur.

It had been years since she'd physically set foot on Omega, but even in the wake of its war against Cerberus, it remained unshaken, unchanged.

The Terminus hub was still called home by lowlife scum of every variety, the dregs of which were interspersed with the morally impartial - mercenaries, smugglers, and the like, all looking to connect and expand their enterprise in a place where competition was built on a literal interpretation of survival of the fittest. Here, class warfare was nonexistent. All were as likely to be predator or prey as the next, all knew desperation in its many forms, and all were subject to the only form of law on Omega.

Aria T'Loak.

Aethyta always enjoyed that infamous rule she touted. A tad vain, perhaps, but it had spirit.

"Leave it," ordered the asari in question as Aethyta rounded the steps to the lounge, batarian guard that approached her now backing off at the abrupt command.

"Not going to search me?" she prompted, brow rising in faint amusement.

Aria released a dismissive hiss, threat underlying despite her display of indifference.

"Should I?"

"It would certainly be a first - but so was having your watchdogs tail me from the docks. Very subtle."

"Who said I wanted them to be subtle?"

Aethyta openly laughed, a mirthless sound low in her throat, joining in observance of the crowd below.

"I see the war did wonders for your paranoia."

Aria's attentive posture did not waver, unwilling to dignify the lure of obvious provocation.

"I saw the footage from Nos Astra. Some soldier gets offed as T'Soni preaches peace on a _safe_ world, and here you are at my doorstep, hours after arriving. I was beginning to think you got lost at the bar."

"Keep your shit liquor. I had business in the markets. My _deepest_ apologies if I kept you waiting."

"Touching. But you really aren't off to a great start."

"No? You jumped right to TIG before I even opened my damn mouth."

Her probing jibe was met with a pulse of derision that was borderline apathetic, more attributable to the execution of a conditioned response than to any genuine displeasure.

"If you have something to ask me, be my guest."

Aethyta felt the corner of her mouth turn.

"Should I?" she echoed, traces of her intentionally vexing demeanor dissipating.

If Aria was innocent of any foul play and held no stake in the tragic events that transpired in Xelvara Plaza - an optimistic scenario Aethyta had come to rely on (and, against her own vow to avoid the risk it invited, even hope for) - then both parties could walk away without fear of the other.

But if not, if this reluctant optimism was nothing more than the strains of weathered old heartstrings, then Aethyta would be forced to act. Such action would inevitably compel a response from Aria, and the two asari, both of decisive volition, would arrive at an impasse. One that, if broken, would burn worlds.

The consequences would be irrevocable.

"I had no part in your soldier's death," Aria finally offered, allaying the quiet dread of her companion with assured refusal. "Tell T'Soni to find another scapegoat."

"Oh I will," mused Aethyta, offhand, though her expression was still stern. "But I'd like to tell her more than that, and you're going to help me."

"Please, enlighten me."

Aethyta steeled herself, releasing a breath of anticipation as she broached the real reason she had included this detour on her return journey, so very far out of her way.

"One of Liara's people - Miranda Lawson, no doubt - is going to show up here, looking for information. You could save everyone a lot of time."

Aria refused to bite, jaw set in defiance.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not feeling charitable toward a Cerberus prodigy."

" _Ex_ -Cerberus, as if you didn't know. And you might benefit from a little charity."

Silence pressed between them once more, Aethyta mindlessly observing the comings and goings of Afterlife's fluid supply of patrons as her counterpart considered the opportunity placed before her.

"I may be willing to help T'Soni," she began, contemplative, "but I have no use for favors that yield no return. I fail to see how doing her dirty work, using my resources, could possibly benefit _me_."

" _Information_ , not resources. Try to keep up, babe," chimed Aethyta, deliberately smug, if only to annoy. "You won't have to lift a finger. Lawson is uptight, but effective. Just...point her in the right direction."

"And if I do? If all you can offer me is gratitude, don't bother."

"It won't be - not mine anyway. T'Soni gets what she needs, you get the gratitude of one of the most powerful people in Citadel space - don't you make that fucking face, she absolutely is," rebuked the matriarch, patience dwindling at the skeptical frown the other asari had been nursing since this conversation began.

"Like I said," she continued, satisfied that Aria had at least humored her with mute disapproval and not outright dismissal, "her gratitude could go a long way. Plus I get to let slip to High Command that the big bad Aria T'Loak found a spot of altruism, and everyone sleeps a little easier."

Her attempt at appeasement was a futile one, and Aria refused to dignify it.

"I couldn't give less of a fuck what High Command thinks of me."

Her edict was issued with cool disregard, but Aethyta was not blind to the irony that belied it.

On a personal level, Aria had long wielded her denouncement as persona non gratawith a flare of pride, believing herself to be above the petty political maneuverings of an authority she rejected. Being branded a villain imbued in her a sense of satisfaction, not shame, and it fueled her.

But professionally, the entire existence of her criminal empire was predicated on the domination of any and all rivals, to the point of obsession, and that included High Command. If she truly held no regard for them, she would have left Omega to destroy itself long ago.

Still, despite the amusing paradox, there was a foreignness to her dismissal that Aethyta could not place, almost as if Aria sounded - _worn_ , as if centuries of perpetual contempt had taken some toll, the quiet rage within wearisome.

It seemed an impossible thought at first, so unlike the dynamic, enduring being that ruled Omega as if it were a privilege, even a right - one that she, and she alone, could claim. Aside from a colorful reputation for promiscuity, rigid independence had always been her preference, and not once had she shaded her disciplined isolation as a burden.

But Aethyta could not mistake the edge in Aria's voice. It stirred something in her gut.

"Do you even enjoy this anymore?"

Aria sneered, unaware of her guest's tacit misgivings.

"Still hoping I'll come _home_?"

Aethyta was not surprised by the baiting lack of response, having long given up on convincing the younger asari that the cesspit that was Omega wasn't worth the effort she put into it.

"I know better," she countered, unfazed. "But if you die, don't expect me to bury you here."

The Queen of Omega kept her vigil, piercing gaze resolute.

"No one is going to bury me."

* * *

 _ **Thessia - Armali**  
T'Soni Estate  
27 June_

The grounds were abnormally quiet.

Stillness settled upon soft rolling hills with a crisp chill, early morning moisture clinging to the thin waves of grass. Midsummer in the sprawling expanse of western Armali boasted notorious beauty, and the T'Soni Estate, with its two hundred acres of untouched land nested into the edge of the Kel Mountains, lay at the heart of it.

Shiala walked the sloping paths of her patrol unfollowed, familiar scenery blending together in dull hues of green and brown, her steps automatic. Her routine seldom changed, and today was no different. Each day she would rise before daybreak for her solo loop around the perimeter, rejoin the few remaining household staff for breakfast, monitor access to the manor during the afternoon, eat dinner alone once the grounds were vacated, then begin her second and final patrol at dusk.

It was still too early for the day workers to have arrived, and the former commando remained the only presence on the trails intersecting the surrounding land. Others might paint the atmosphere as peaceful, even captivating, with the pale gold sun warming the flowering grape vines and glittering in reflection on the clear water of the lake, thin white clouds hovering, picturesque.

Here, on the outskirts of land no one lived on, Shiala found the solitude eerie.

T'Soni was one of the oldest names on Thessia, lineage stretching back to generations beyond memory. For thousands of years this land had been called home by an asari bearing the title of matriarch, right up until its last, just before its ownership passed into the hands of a maiden that did not want it.

For as long as Shiala had known her, Liara had always resented the life she inherited. She was never so callous as to openly disrespect her mother, or the position she championed, but her silent disavowal of the political sphere was akin to a refusal of her birthright, and it stung Benezia so.

Still, unfortunate occurrence though it was, the savagery of the Reaper War forced Liara's hand. She had the skill, the resources, and the right connections. When the opportunity to fight for and defend her people arose, she bore the onus of seizing it - no one else would. She had been denied the luxury of shunning politics any longer, and with the finesse of someone far older, had used her unique predicament to her advantage in the wake of victory. Whether she wanted it or not, she was now the vanguard for all asari in the new era.

But she had yet to come home.

Behind the tailored speeches, behind the flair for elegance, behind the confidence of deft entrepreneurship, Shiala sensed a fracturing schism. Deep within, beneath the spiraling layers of her public persona, Liara was bitterly angry.

Her present undertaking fell somewhere between upstaging the ruling information syndicates of the Terminus on one hand, extending the other to the Council races in promise of peace, covertly challenging High Command with whatever was left, all whilst single-handedly repairing the galaxy – and this without the help of Shepard, whose mysterious diplomatic dealings on Palaven left everyone in the dark, including Liara.

Even now, she blatantly dismissed the danger she invited. It was this unspoken fury - at her loss, at the failure of her government, at her unwanted burden - that drove her, and she was blind.

Shiala pressed onward, head bowed as she passed the gardens only recently returned to full bloom. They had fallen into decay these past years, left unchecked with no one to tend them, but with her newfound responsibility as warden, Shiala saw fit to plant anew, in honor of the woman who had once treasured them.

It was a curious and difficult role she adopted, being the last voice of Benezia T'Soni and forsaken guardian to her daughter, though kin to neither.

She stopped at the edge of the lake, eyes falling on the old stone benches rooted into the shoreline with a sharp tug of reminiscence. When she was very young, Liara had loved this tiny beach, digging in the sand in endless search of seashells, shrieking in delight when chubby blue feet touched the water. Her mother used to watch in radiant joy, cherishing the rare private moment with her only child, away from the unending demands of her career.

Shiala would have done anything for either one of them, once. Now Benezia was dead, Liara aloof, and Shiala a crippled shadow of a former huntress.

She took to the bench alone, its smooth finish cool against her legs, even through the leather. The unsolicited memories left a sourness in her throat she could not shake, beating at her chest in solemn rhythm, the silence of unstirred water as cold a reminder of her failure as anything else.

Her omni-tool flared to life with a flex of her wrist, fingers tapping out familiar digits, pale light blinking as she stared in grim focus.

 _Shiala?_

"Yes. It's me."

 _It's good to hear from you. You had us worried._

She could not find a response, jaw clenched despite herself.

 _Shiala? Is everything alright?_

She tensed, breath constricted, rising sun beating against her back.

"I want to come back in."

* * *

 _ **Citadel - Presidium**  
Asari Embassy  
27 June_

Ambassador Direila felt her patience wane as the first stirrings of claustrophobia twisted her stomach.

Her enviable balcony view of the glistening Presidium lake had been snuffed out by tinted glass, a retractable protective shell reinforced with a kinetic barrier. She understood the necessity of its installation, given the nature of the highly sensitive matters often conducted behind embassy doors, but it never inspired comfort.

The barrier effectively served as both precaution and cloak, ensuring the confidentiality and privacy of whatever occurred inside its boundaries, but it lent the space an ominous feel, choking out natural light and holding both sound and air trapped within. It made the Ambassador's skin crawl.

Still, her current briefing went beyond the normal parameters of secrecy. Perhaps it was fitting.

"Valya," she greeted with exhibition, bowing her head in courteous tandem. "No trouble from the docking officer?"

"All quiet," returned the commando, parroting their designated code phrase with ease, a habitual safeguard against the threat of duress.

"Good," came the earnest reply, its speaker retaking the seat behind her pristine desk, flickerings of impatience ebbing once more. "I was hoping you would come to me first. We have much to discuss."

"We do, indeed," confirmed Kerintis, taking her own seat opposite the Ambassador, her movements precise, no hesitation present. "To make a very long and boring recounting of our conversation short, Aria has agreed to my proposal. She will allow me to provide assistance to Dr. T'Soni at my discretion."

"Excellent – exactly as you predicted. And she trusts you to do this?"

"Unequivocally."

Direila absorbed this development, reflective, piecing together potential outcomes as they occurred to her.

"What about T'Soni? Will she accept?"

Valya released a deflating breath, skepticism glinting beneath her gaze.

"That might prove a more challenging feat."

"Why?" demanded the Ambassador, unable to hide her surprise at this unexpected display of doubt shadowing the asari before her, who normally possessed such unyielding composure.

"Liara wants to keep her investigation internal," she explained, leisurely crossing one leg over the other. "She has Miranda Lawson acting alone, under the radar, and she's already refused my offer on behalf of the Republics. If I were to reveal my ties to Aria and reattempt, this could backfire. And even if it does work, it will be difficult to earn her trust."

"I don't care if she trusts you, and neither should you. She just has to listen to you."

Rather than assuage her misgivings, the correction served only to feed Valya's reluctance.

"I think we should reconsider involving her this way."

Direila remained unmoved.

"Bridging this alliance between T'Loak and T'Soni was _your_ idea, as I recall. You were adamant, insisting that we needed to control the flow of – "

"Misinformation, yes, I remember," she added hastily, enthusiasm for the idea having since lessened. "We needed a drastic solution, and fast, so I acted. But after hearing her speak on Illium, seeing what TIG has built, the kind of attention she draws? I don't know. It may have been a mistake."

The Serrice Ambassador frowned, previous satisfaction at her colleague's report of success now drained.

"Yes, I suffered through that speech, too," she scoffed, unimpressed. "It's all so ridiculous, thinking she stands a chance. She knows nothing of how this world – _our_ world – works. And that so many of our own people follow her? It astounds me. I am truly astounded."

Kerintis hid her smirk, unperturbed.

"A pureblood orphan grandstanding about societal ills on a planet that believes itself avant-garde? Yes," she jeered, "I can't imagine why she'd gain popularity."

"Of course," continued Direila, ignoring the jest as if it had never been voiced, "all the more entertaining that her precious advisor is actually one of ours, bitter old fossil that she is."

"Mm, speaking of…" trailed Valya, resuming her pensive demeanor. "Aethyta made me."

" _What?"_

"Not directly," amended the commando, straightening her shoulders, hint of defiance. "But she knows – or she thinks she knows – that I more than a diplomat, and she warned me to keep my distance. She departed for the Citadel shortly after. I have no idea of her current whereabouts."

"Unfortunate, but ultimately not your concern. Nor is T'Soni – remember why you agreed to this. I need you to focus on T'Loak."

"I am, and I have been," reaffirmed Kerintis, candid. "But if we fail? A true alliance between TIG and Omega would exceed even our influence. You must see the danger. It could destroy us, and it would be of our own doing."

"We won't fail," assured Direila, unwavering. "You are the most skilled operator I know, you'll see to it. And T'Loak is weaker than she thinks. Her time is running short."

Valya released another sigh, pointed exhale more expressive than her words.

"Omega has endured longer than either of us. And Omega will remain Omega, with or without Aria."

"Do you still not understand?" prompted the Ambassador, bemused. "Aethyta doesn't matter. T'Soni doesn't matter. Even T'Loak in her glorious high tower doesn't matter. I don't need to change Omega, just its ruler. If Aria is unwilling to concede even the pretense of friendship to the Republics, then we find new leadership. Or isn't that why you volunteered?"

Valya, who was well versed in the intricacies of de facto statehood, did not humor the bait.

"I do understand. You want to upset the balance of power in the Terminus, that is the way of things. But Aria? You have no chance. Assassins have been trying for decades. You'll never get close enough, she's too good."

If the other asari was discouraged, she elected not to show it, her reply carefully chosen, as if rehearsed.

"You want to kill a queen, you raze her tower."

Kerintis smiled, reserved, diluted with something that felt like sadness.

"You've never killed a queen."

Direila could not dispel the image her ominous words inspired in the recesses of her mind. Aria dead, abrupt, unexpected, strung up in her beloved Afterlife for all to see, their very foundations shaken as they witnessed her power upset so brutally. All of her arrogance, her nauseating ego, her ruthless force of will made so weak, with such cruel abandon.

The thought made her stomach lurch with greed, and with hunger.

"Watch me."

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy Valentine's Day!


	5. Inheritance

**A/N:** Well this took longer than expected, again.

* * *

 _ **Illium - Nos Astra**  
T'Soni Intel Group  
27 June_

Liara looked exhausted.

James could not dispel the nagging sense of intrusion that burned as he observed it, but there was no denying the fatigued manner in which she awaited the start of their briefing. Her features seemed drawn, distinct light blue of her skin paled, tired eyes watching the door out of mere obligation. It was all too clear that she was miserable, and it was distracting the part of him that was still furious with her.

Discontent passed across his face as he recalled their terse exchange from days previous.

If Liara had a flaw, it was asserting herself as the sole moral arbiter of her environment. It was the quiet dark side of her success, a warped delusion born of her studious independence. It was a subtle instinct, not quite so blatant as outright arrogance, nor as ugly as simple narcissism. Still, there was a certain tragic appeal in believing the consequences of her actions to be so grand that others had no part in them, and though she rarely indulged such melodrama, it was no less frustrating whenever she did.

It was what drove her to seek isolation, without warning, without foresight. She had taken on the brunt of responsibility for both Traynor and Ashley, and she had done so with logical precision, assuming her guilt to be an objective truth. Her attempt to force James to discard his loyalty was an expression of how unbearable this responsibility had grown, and she had done so without considering that both he and Ashley had agency of their own, that she did not have unilateral control over her surroundings.

He hoped his adamant refusal would snap her out of it, but he was still shaken by it.

In truth, the longer he spent on Illium, the less this more benign form of selfishness surprised him - vanity seemed a trait inherent to all asari, no matter how minute its quantity. Still, despite even that, even _with_ that, Liara T'Soni remained one of the best people he knew, and he respected her a great deal.

But right now –

"You look like shit, Kid."

Took the words right out of his mouth.

It hardly qualified as consolation, considering the mess they'd been wading through for the past week and a half, but Aethyta's return to TIG was a much appreciated homecoming.

"It has been a very trying forty-eight hours," returned Liara, too accustomed to her father's blunt way of communicating to take offense.

"Yeah," muttered Aethyta, shaking her head. "Guess I missed a party. Williams alright?"

"Her surgeon tells me she is recovering well, though I am not sure when she'll be released."

"She's pulled through worse. She'll make it. Vega – you holding up?" prompted the matriarch, addressing him with a gruff nod.

"Day by day, ma'am."

"Good. Where is ILE on this?"

"Looks like nowhere," James huffed, unable to hide his irritation at the apparent radio silence.

"Detective Anaya believes the attacks on Specialist Traynor and Lieutenant Williams are related," added Liara in further explanation, watching with vague apprehension as her father took her seat. "We are still prohibited from interfering in any way until her investigation is complete."

"Related how? It'd be nice if we knew her angle."

"Probably that someone has beef with TIG, or even the Alliance. But we don't know. She hasn't shared her opinion," answered Vega, speculating.

"Yeah. Could be," mused Aethyta, chewing on the information with little conviction. "There are easier ways to kill than knifing someone in public. Seems bold. Or just fucking stupid."

Liara nodded, expression no less distant.

"Bold, yes, as it was planned to be. Someone very desperately wanted my attention."

"Meaning? What – what is that look?" prompted the elder asari with shrewd demand, not blind to the fleeting nonverbal communication that passed between Vega and her daughter.

"The attacker had a message for me," confessed Liara, eyes flitting downward. "She said – the Broker says hello."

"The _Shadow Broker?_ I thought he went dark during the war. You never told me he was still gunning for you."

Liara ignored Aethyta's accusation, negating her concern with clipped certainty.

"He's not. And he did. But it is obvious I am meant to believe otherwise. The Republics must be eager to see me back off that contract."

"The Republics? Hang on a second here," came the halting command, stern. "I know they're capable, even motivated, but why so quick to lay this on them? He might have been quiet lately but the Broker isn't the type to bury a grudge."

"He's been quiet because he's dead."

"Got any proof of that?"

"Yes. I cannot share it, I'm sorry. But I am beyond certain the Shadow Broker was not involved."

"Ok, fine. You're sure," conceded Aethyta, tone dry, unconvinced. "Why not ask the assassin? There's a brilliant idea."

"Detective Anaya tried," explained James, who had been passively observing his asari counterparts interact, fearful of interjecting and somehow revealing more than Liara intended. "But their prisoner has been tight-lipped."

"So, what, dead end?"

"Not quite," countered Liara, voice lowered, foreboding. "It just requires a more coercive technique."

Her father did not ask for clarification.

"Right. And who's going to do that for you?"

"Miranda," she supplied with ease, having already anticipated the question.

"You sure about that?"

"She has…a versatile skillset."

Aethyta emitted a coarse laugh in response, amused, having spent enough time around the human operative to not be laboring under any misconceptions about her _skillset_.

"No kidding, but that's not what I meant. I meant no one's heard crap from Lawson."

"I know," admitted the maiden, wistful, gaze locked. "But she's never let me down."

* * *

 _ **Omega**  
Afterlife  
28 June_

"Well, this is new," remarked Aria with dry amusement, surveying her current guest with probing interest, unmistakable beneath her perpetual affect of detachment. "I don't remember you being this cooperative when you were slaving for the Illusive Man."

Her barbed comment went ignored, neutral expression of the human seated on the adjacent couch unchanged.

"I did what was asked of me. Your lieutenant insisted."

"Still, here you are. At least your new employer is an improvement – T'Soni sent you alone. She obviously trusts you, or…at least your abilities."

"And pays me very well for them," deflected Miranda with indifference, all too aware of the challenge undercutting Aria's casual tone.

"Good," returned the asari warlord, bothered very little by her guest's reluctance to engage in conversation. "Because I'm offering you a chance to prove your worth."

"I had no idea you were interested."

"Oh I'm not, disappointing as that must be to hear. It's T'Soni's interests at stake, not mine."

"Why should her interests be any of your concern?"

Aria released an abrupt exhale.

"Perhaps you need a geography lesson," she answered, hint of severity coloring her irises. "I know why you came here and I know what you plan to do, and I knew it before there were rumors about you staking out my docking bays. My leniency for trespassing since your old Cerberus friends invaded has been dangerously thin. You should consider yourself lucky that T'Soni's interests warrant my concern."

"I feel truly blessed," quipped Miranda, patience waning. "So what is this proposition?"

"Not a proposition," corrected Aria, stirring with obvious expectation. "A gesture of good faith."

Perplexed, and no closer to what she hoped would be the end of this exchange, Miranda bristled.

"To what end?"

"None. You want the person responsible for the shitstorm T'Soni has found herself in, and if she sent you – alone – I assume you'd prefer to do it quietly. His location is yours, if you want it. I'm asking nothing in return. Just remember where it came from."

"It will be difficult not to, after that geography lesson."

Aria seemed to check her restraint, head tilting a fraction, muscle twitching in her cheek.

"If you're half as smart as they say you are, you'll drop your cheeky bullshit and listen to what I'm telling you. I'm going to give you that location, you're going to go do whatever it is that needs doing, and then you're going to leave. If you refuse, or if you feel entitled to interfere where you have no right to, then this will be the last you ever see of my hospitality."

A silence stretched between them, exacting, promise of violence unspoken.

"Your _gesture_ is starting to feel more and more like a threat," Miranda finally replied, depth of her mistrust already revealed, even as she began to rise to her feet. "Or a trap."

Before she had even fully taken a step, five guards – two that had been determinedly aloof just moments prior – had their weapons drawn and aimed in her direction with no discernable hesitation. Impressed by their efficiency, though ultimately unsurprised, Miranda did not move, right hand lingering over her own SMG.

"Sit down, Lawson."

Her command unheeded, Aria released another sigh of impatience, entirely unbothered by the confrontation transpiring before her.

"You have considerable talent, of that I have no doubt," she acknowledged, no less formidable in her relaxed state, eyes glinting with unfettered resolve. "But I would destroy you."

Cornered, with zero indication of the standoff dissipating, Miranda acquiesced. She kept her features unreadable, but alert, primed to react within the split-second.

"You expect me to take your word alone, with no option to verify. Certainly you can appreciate my skepticism."

"Yes, _certainly_ ," dismissed Aria, trace of amusement emerging once more. "But let me be clear. I have no intention of harming you, so long as you stay clear of my operations. Though, you have put me in a position I despise."

"Empathizing?"

"Justifying myself," corrected the pirate queen, ignoring the dig with a faint crease of her brow. "Neither me, nor anyone that works for me, had even a single _second_ of involvement in the death of your soldier. So when you're finished, run back to Illium and tell that to T'Soni, or…whoever it is you answer to. Your skepticism is your own problem."

"Alright," agreed the operative, curiosity piqued, though not entirely reassured. "You have my attention."

"Perfect," Aria bit out, sourness lingering. "Head to the Kenzo District. My lieutenant will escort you."

"And after we part ways?"

"Then the coordinates for T'Soni's lost turian are yours."

* * *

 _ **Thessia - Armali**  
Kel Rehabilitation Clinic  
28 June_

Shiala woke gradually, dim veil of disorientation fading as the dull throb behind her eyes sharpened to acute, lancing pain. She closed her eyes again, brow furrowed in discomfort as she tried to push away the onslaught of her pulsing headache. The action did little to help, full awareness still eluding her as she struggled to piece together whatever landed her in this state.

The clouded presence seated next to her, whom she'd been ignoring, seemed to sense her lack of clarity.

"You blacked out," explained the voice, familiar, but not entirely soothing.

Shiala offered no reply, subdued into silence as the memory of her failure returned.

"Actually you threw up first," amended the other asari, injecting a hint of sympathy to her tone.

Disappointment fell heavy on the ex-commando's chest, feeling decidedly juvenile as she realized the depth of her shamefully unimpressive performance.

"You looked great doing it, though."

Shiala emitted a low laugh, genuine, stupidity of the comment jarring her away from rumination.

"I missed you, Yeri," she remarked dryly, throat hoarse from the abuse it had taken.

The mystery presence, Yeri, returned the jibe with a small smile in friendly greeting, slyness notwithstanding.

"It's good you came back. It's good to see you – even if you are covered in puke."

Shiala frowned, brief moment of levity sapped away. The lingering foul smell and the dampness clinging to her clothes obviated the need to see the evidence for herself, but she did so anyway, forcing herself to ignore the searing across her side as she rose to a sitting position. It was far from flattering, contrary to Yeri's attempt at humor, and she felt even worse than she looked.

"You shouldn't be pushing yourself this hard," chided Yeri, quick to alleviate the renewed silence. "You know better."

Shiala released a stabilizing breath, wishing she had stayed laying down, lightheadedness spinning.

"I guess not."

"You should have asked her to stop."

"She's the best instructor you have," returned Shiala, brushing off the reprimand without effort.

"She's psychotic," hissed her companion, undeterred by her charge's blasé dismissal. "And you're not far off, if you think making yourself sick with exhaustion is somehow helping you."

"Did you write that down?"

"Yes actually, so the joke's on you. Goddess knows how much you love your psych appointments."

Shiala failed to summon the energy to respond, still glued to the floor as her muscles quivered in weakness from the strain they endured.

"Shiala, it's my job to monitor your health. I was worried when you left so suddenly – that's why I called Dr. T'Soni. I don't know what she said to you, and I'm glad you decided to return, but I'll be honest with you; I'm still concerned. You requested to train at a level far beyond your limits, something you knew very well. _Why_ are you torturing yourself this way?"

Jaw clenched in defiance, the rich viridian of Shiala's gaze flickered with intensity.

"I'm not doing this for me."

* * *

 _ **Illium – Nos Astra**  
Unknown Location  
28 June_

Damp, earthy moisture seeped beneath Aethyta's boots, mud pressing against the soles as she stepped away from her vehicle. Gargantuan deciduous trees surrounded her tiny landing zone on all sides, blocking out the barely visible skyline of the sprawling metropolis that was Nos Astra proper. The path laid before her was narrow and interspersed with various roots and boulders, but if the churned mud and general lack of debris were any indicator, it was subjected to routine use and upkeep.

All in all, Aethyta was surprised at how easily she had found this place, mysterious as it was. It had been as stupid – and worryingly simple – as asking to borrow Liara's skycar, ripping the destination from her navigational logs, and setting the course.

The catalyst for this excursion had been initiated the night before, during her debrief at TIG. Liara and Vega had both been distant, even evasive, and their resistance to her probing about the Shadow Broker had felt distinctly rehearsed. She tried to brush it off as nothing more than strained emotions and lack of sleep, but it unsettled her, and she couldn't shake it. If they wanted to be coy and indulge their own little mind games, fine by her, but Aethyta refused to play the bystander.

And, perhaps more importantly, if the two of them wanted to hide whatever it was they were neglecting to share, Liara should have been less of a careless idiot and remembered to wipe her logs.

Still, Aethyta was no closer to understanding _why_ Liara had come here, to some nameless unmarked trail in the heart of Illium's limited forest region. She'd bet good money that it led to a refuge or installation of some sort, but for Liara to have come here in secret, while her company faced crisis? It begged exploration.

Briefly, she wondered if it was a mistake to leave her shotgun. She never went without her pistol, and her biotics were nothing to laugh at, but it was still unclear what she was walking into. She was alone, but the eerie silence did not bode well for the growing disquiet that gnawed at her. Bad enough that she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, but if some predator caught her scent…well, no shotgun was better than no gun at all.

Her feet carried her upwards along the sloping path with considerable effort, tired lungs struggling to traverse the challenging terrain with the same rugged athleticism she had possessed in her youth. Just over a mile in, sweating through her thin garb and beginning to question her sanity – and regretting the decision to forego a canteen – the trees began to thin.

With a certain temerity to her steps, she followed what remained of the trail into its eventual descent, stark carbon gray of what appeared to be a secluded bunker becoming increasingly visible. Fifty yards from the edge of the path, Aethyta spotted a shadowed entrance, fading sunlight glinting off the mechanized doorway.

Emerging from the cover of the tree line, she dismissed any residual hesitation. The second she touched down she had committed to whatever this was, and she had not scaled a winding forest ridge for her health. She was determined to ensure this was not a pointless journey.

She made it less than three steps toward the door before she was intercepted by a blur of armor, rifle leveled in her face.

"Stop moving."

Instinctively she froze, cursing her delayed reflexes.

"Identify yourself. Now," demanded the guard, human, sharp gaze examining his quarry with suspicion.

"You first," returned Aethyta, jaw tight, palms raised in submission but adrenaline surging.

"Not happening. Answer, or I shoot to kill."

The matriarch refused to budge. Her reaction time may not be what it once was, but her biotics? Well –

Her skin had barely begun to twinge with swirling cobalt before she charged, and it was a matter of seconds until she had reversed their positions, bicep snaked around his neck as he struggled.

"Not happening, huh? Right. Who are you?"

"Fuck off," he spat, rifle dropped, both arms locked in futile effort at prying her away.

"Ok," continued Aethyta, unfazed, increasing the pressure on his throat. "So who pays you?"

"I tell you, I'm dead."

"Like I care," she rebuffed, her own weapon now edged against his temple in an ominous gesture of sincerity. "Tell me."

The guard was silent, straining against her merciless hold, choking rasp clawing. Her biotics flared.

"Tell me, or I rip you the fuck apart."

"T'Soni," he choked out, threat of imminent, gruesome death enough to force his cooperation.

"Thought so," huffed Aethyta, his coerced reply confirming what she already guessed. "Why?"

She released her hold, shoving him forward as she did so, out of reach of his fallen rifle.

"Nevermind," she relented, temper cooling a fraction as she watched him massage his throat. Her tiring journey and subsequent thrust into unexpected violence had irritated her, and it was with rash impulse that she ordered her hostage to move. "Start walking."

He obeyed her command with little resistance, chin stiff with discomfort but no verbal defiance. With her pistol still aimed readily at his back, she led him toward the door, red locking panel blinking in recurrent flashes.

"Open it."

The guard remained motionless.

"You know who I am. I know you do."

"You tripped the alarm the second you landed. I let you in, she'll know."

"Not my problem. Open it."

With a tightening of the shoulders he finally surrendered, flattening his right hand against the biometric scanner and entering his authorization code with the left. With an affirmative hum the lock flashed green, doors sliding open with a rush of cool air.

"Walk," she ordered again, attention focused on scrutinizing his potential as a threat.

When she was through the threshold of the entryway, she froze, intake of her surroundings instantly ending her momentum. Her temper surged with renewed vigor, churning in her gut, its sudden flush enough to mask the flicker of fear.

Again she shoved the guard forward with a furious snarl, silencing any inclination to protest.

"Move an inch, and _I_ shoot to kill."

A glimpse of familiar crystalline blue caught her periphery, and she jerked her attention sideways, her pistol still locked on its target.

"Glyph," she barked, rasping tone amplified by the acoustics of the room.

The drone spun around, acknowledging the intruder with its usual joviality.

"Matriarch Aethyta!" it greeted, oblivious. "How can I be of assistance?"

"What is this place?" she demanded, disregarding its precedent for politeness.

"This facility is maintained and operated by employees of T'Soni Intel Group – "

"I know that already. I asked what it _is_."

"I'm sorry, I am not at liberty to disclose that information."

Aethyta flexed around the grip of her weapon, irritation nagging.

"Override. Clearance code zeta-nine."

"I'm sorry," repeated Glyph, unable to detect her growing unease. "That clearance code does not meet the necessary security requirements to override my programming."

"Forget it," hissed the matriarch, repressing her urge to warp the thing into oblivion as she formulated a more fruitful approach. "Tell me where you came from."

"The origins of my creation are not specified."

"Fine. Liara either purchased you or procured you somehow. From where?"

"Dr. T'Soni acquired me from a vessel orbiting the system called Hagalaz – "

"What ship?"

"There is no record of the vessel's name in any known archive – "

"I swear by the fucking goddess – whose ship was it?"

Glyph flitted upwards, an imitation of confusion, or reluctance.

"Unknown. While he lived, he referred to himself only as his assumed identity."

"Which was?" prompted Aethyta, stomach curling itself into a knot of its own volition.

Any remnant of reluctance vanished.

"Shadow Broker."

Response she feared no longer a suspicion, she turned her back to the drone, comprehension of her unexpected discovery weighing on her shoulders as she observed the space she had so forcefully entered. Hundreds and hundreds of terminals, lining the walls in a vast network of communication and dissection, data streaming in endless whirs of white noise, generators emitting power in ceaseless rhythm.

Hundreds – maybe thousands – of terminals, all branding Liara one thing.

 _Liar_.

* * *

 **A/N:** Have a lovely holiday season!


	6. Cold Hands

**A/N:** I hope you are all having a snowier winter than mine. Unless you are dead inside and hate snow.

* * *

 _ **Illium - Nos Astra**  
T'Soni Intel Group  
29 June_

"Tell them I'll be in momentarily, I need to speak with James," requested Liara, dismissing her secretary with a polite nod, too preoccupied with the meeting she was passively avoiding to pay much heed to the low hum of the hallway doors sliding open behind her.

"Would you like a copy of the Ontarom report?"

"Yes, send it to me. I expect – "

The remainder of whatever it was she was expecting was never voiced, words dying in her throat as the back of her arm was suddenly wrenched forward in a painful grasp. Stunned, Liara barely had time to observe who it was that so violently interrupted her before the momentum of her assailant's unbroken stride carried her into the adjacent office.

It was as she stumbled through the threshold, doors hissing shut as she did, that she realized who it was.

Aethyta.

"What are you _doing_?"

Insolent, glaring, unequivocally furious Aethyta.

" _You're_ the Shadow Broker? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Instantly the confusion in Liara's face slipped away, shoulders stiff with defiance as she pulled her arm out of its invasive prison. She took an involuntary step backwards, expression hard, inscrutable.

"I have an obligation. We can discuss this later."

"No. We discuss it now," ordered the matriarch, tone akin to a snarl, abrasive. "You lied to my _fucking_ face."

Outwardly she adopted a mask of professionalism, impervious to discontent, her own anger a quiet, simmering certainty beneath cool disinterest.

"Who told you?"

Aethyta snorted, not at all assuaged by the complete lack of denial.

"Your idiot drone," she answered, accusation deepening. "After I broke into your little forest base."

" _You_ were that security breach?" demanded Liara, mask slipping, frustration burgeoning. "Damn it. If you had just talked to me first – "

"You would have lied," hissed Aethyta, cold. "And you'd have kept lying without a second thought, which is what scares me the most. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Liara folded her arms across her chest on instinct, wary, insulted despite her clear disadvantage.

"I was thinking about the war, and what Shepard would need to win."

For a moment, mention of the human commander halted Aethyta. Her mouth twisted downward.

"Did he put you up to this?"

"No, actually he advised against it," countered the maiden, unable to stop herself. "But that was a long time ago. Your unauthorized trespass notwithstanding, the network is under control. There is no danger."

"No danger?" laughed her father, incredulous. "Do you hear yourself? _Anyone_ could wander onto that trail, and your man practically pissed himself at my biotics. Whatever ragtag force you hired, it's not good enough. Not to mention how completely stupid it is to entrust your identity to a bunch of mercs, for fuck's sake."

"I entrust _nothing_ ," reproached Liara, returning her own glare in kind. "They know even less about that facility than you do, and there are safeguards in place to ensure that no one but myself and a select few others can access even a single terminal. I will need to update Glyph's security protocols, and perhaps implement stricter hiring criteria, but I cannot afford to make that a priority right now."

"It's a time bomb," warned the matriarch, fervent reprimand unyielding. "And you're delusional if you think you can keep ignoring it. Is your money even clean? I hope some of those safeguards are financial, because all it takes is _one_ auditor up your ass – "

"Enough," came the responsive hiss, defiant. "Of course it's clean. Do you really believe I'd leave an incriminating paper trail on Illium, of all places? Even if we _were_ subjected to an audit, there would be no records to indicate otherwise. As I said, the network is under control."

Aethyta fell silent, brooding, dry in her disappointment.

"Great," she issued, casual tone insincere. "So you're free to do despicable shit while the rest of us run around in circles in the dark, trying to keep you alive. You know, it's a good thing your mother is already dead, because if she were here to see this, it would destroy her."

The caustic remark did not shame as intended. Liara stared, unmoved, hostility burning.

"That isn't fair. I wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for either of you."

Her father laughed, harsh, unyielding.

"Don't you dare try to blame this on me! You have no right."

"Neither do you," snapped Liara, bitterness that had long festered emerging anew. " _You_ tried to blame Shepard, but perhaps you've forgotten – if he hadn't intervened, I would have gone the rest of my life believing I was an orphan."

Her scathing insinuation was met with no return, her father's features softening as she recoiled in silence, visibly stung.

"That was never what I wanted," confessed Aethyta, words low. "Your mother and I…nothing we planned for mattered. None of this worked out the way we thought."

Liara took no gratification from the vindication she felt, but there was no suppressing its existence. Nor could she release the hold of her resentment, even as it conflicted with the regret of callously wounding her father. She felt consumed, unable to stop herself from splintering.

Her words were remote, guarded, imbued with none of the sadness clawing within.

"You made your choices. I made mine."

Aethyta did not beg elaboration, nor apologize, though she looked uncomfortable. Her frown deepened.

"Right. Well it doesn't matter. Broker or not, I'm with you, Kid. I just wish you had told me."

Liara was relieved from formulating a reply by the appearance of her assistant, doors sliding open with hurried entrance, her normally calm disposition replaced with stern urgency.

"Dr. T'Soni, I'm sorry to interrupt. Detective Anaya needs to see you. You should go immediately."

"What's going on?" demanded Aethyta, not bothering with politeness.

"Something happened. The asari that attacked Lieutenant Williams is dead."

Liara sobered, anger that had fueled hardening to ice.

" _What?_ "

* * *

 _ **Illium - Nos Astra**  
Nos Astra Medical Center  
29 June_

Alone in the privacy of her tiny bathroom cube, Ashley could not avoid the misery of her own reflection.

She had spent the majority of the past four days confined to a bed, and an operating table before that, but there was little in her haggard appearance that resembled rest. The skin beneath her eyes was dark and sickly, exhaustion the evident price for her recovery. Slowly, with tentative fingers brushing against the fabric of her hospital gown, she exposed her stomach to the mirror.

Five slicing red lines marred the otherwise smooth skin of her abdomen, four of them clustered, haphazard reminders of the knife that dealt them, the other a thin, surgical incision. The procedure itself had gone well, her damaged intestine removed and repaired without complication. This, at least, was reason enough to consider herself lucky, or so her caretakers insisted.

She would not have to shit through a bag for the rest of her life.

Ashley was grateful for her survival, but there was no luck in it, of that she was sure. She had extensive training in close combat, and she knew with complete certainty that a trained wetwork operative would not have so blatantly erred in their attempt. There were faster, quieter, and far more lethal ways to inflict damage. If her assailant had wanted her dead, she would be – the attack on her life was simply a message.

The thought was far from comforting. It only confirmed that Liara was in more danger than ever.

"Hey Ash?" prompted James from outside, his knock light, hesitant. "You good?"

Releasing a steadying breath, Ashley let go of her gown, turning and pulling open the door.

"Yeah," she answered, voice as tired as her body. "I'm good. Ready to ditch this place."

"It could still be awhile. Lots of paperwork."

"I don't care, as long as I get some real food at the end of this. This jello is seriously disgusting."

James made little reaction, no amusement shared, thoughts apparently elsewhere.

"What's wrong?" asked Williams, his lack of enthusiasm or any type of reply putting her on edge.

He turned his attention back to her, gaze apologetic.

"I talked to Hackett," he began in explanation, extending an arm to help steady her balance as she exited the bathroom. "I asked him to disclose Shepard's location, so we could contact him."

"Let me guess," snapped Ashley in discontent, lowering herself into the nearby chair. "He refused."

"He said what Shepard is doing on Palaven is too important for humanity. If we pull him out now, we could compromise him. He thinks this could be some bullshit scheme to lure out the Commander."

Ashley snorted, abrupt laugh slightly painful.

"No way. These attacks were personal, and public. Someone's playing with Liara and they want her to know it. If anyone's being lured, it's her."

"I know. It's just what Hackett said," Vega reiterated, shrugging. "Nobody can tell me where Garrus is, either."

She released another trying breath, grimace registering no surprise. Her latest brush with death had done nothing to soften her cynical edge.

"Probably the same damn foxhole as Shepard, wherever that is. Victus would know."

"Maybe, but even if I did have the clearance to get through to the Primarch, there's no point in asking. Hackett was pretty crystal in his order not to interfere."

"Liara could get you through. Maybe not above board, but she could do it."

Not quite the emphatic reaction she was expecting, Ashley watched with looming irritation as James prepared what was obviously a reluctant excuse.

"Hackett doesn't want her involved. After what happened to Traynor…I get the feeling trust is waning."

Her suspicion confirmed, she balked at his explanation, reactionary glare instant.

"What – so this is Liara's fault now?" she challenged, needlessly brusque. "Typical Alliance bullshit. Deflect blame and hope the problem goes away."

"He just wants to be careful. There's a lot of risk involved."

Ashley emitted a sharp exhale.

"Screw what Hackett wants. You're Liara's security chief, not his fucking errand boy."

"All he did was ask me to keep my eyes open."

"Great. Glad to hear he's broken up about my safety, by the way. Must really keep him up at night."

James did not probe further, bearing no desire to be on the receiving end of misdirected frustration.

"Ash."

"Forget it," muttered Williams, remaining reserves of energy dissipating, ignoring the flare of old anger in favor of focusing on freeing herself from the confines of this hospital, as she had meant to do all along. It was hardly the fault of James – who continually went out of his way to help her, care for her, even in her worst moments.

She relaxed her shoulders, breathing deeply, communicating her apology through silent pressure, palm clutched to his forearm as she leaned on him for support.

"Does Liara know about Hackett?" she finally prompted, restoring the neutral direction of their discussion.

"No. And she won't, ever."

"Right. For her own protection, I remember," remarked Ashley, snatching the clipboard from the stand closest to her, flipping through the pages of her release papers with limited retention. "Just hope she sees it that way once she realizes Hackett is playing her."

"It's not like that. This contract is a huge investment – he's covering his ass, same as she would. And anyway, it was my call. If she found out the Alliance was having second thoughts, on top of all the shit she's in already…she almost fell off the grid once. I won't be responsible for it happening again."

"What do you mean, off the grid? What happened?"

"She disappeared the night of the funeral, after I brought you here. I tracked her down to Site Six – not that hard really. When I got there she tried pushing me away – said we were free to go back home."

" _Home?_ What – Earth?" demanded Ashley, exasperated, not sure whether to laugh or roll her eyes.

"You can guess what I told her. Still, hard to say where she's at mentally."

"I'm not surprised, actually," revealed the former Spectre, frowning as James relieved the attending nurse of the wheelchair meant to liberate her. "Everything she did during the war was done because she had to. Easy to be ruthless when your back is against the wall. Lately…I'm not so sure."

James did not further engage, vigilant gaze locked, shadow of fear unrelenting.

"We shouldn't talk about this here."

"No," she acquiesced, not overly fond of continuing that line of thought. "Let's go, then."

"You sure you're ready?"

Ashley rose and transferred her weight to the wheelchair by way of response, exertion enough to warrant a heaving exhale.

"I have to be. If what you said about Shepard is true…then keeping Liara safe is squarely on us."

"She might disagree."

Stark white walls blurred into obscurity as James moved them toward the exit, exhaustion of her body no match to the preoccupation of her mind.

"All the more reason."

* * *

 _ **Illium - Nos Astra**  
ILE Headquarters  
29 June_

"Hey – hey!" called Aethyta, slowing the harried steps of the maiden before her, demeanor stern as the latter's blazing warpath was brought to a sudden halt by the pressure on her elbow.

Liara shoved off the offensive grip, having already stomached far too much of her father's interference for one day.

"I need to speak with the Detective. Alone, if you keep attempting to hinder me."

"No, what you _need_ is to pull your shit together. Tear her throat out and we get nowhere."

Fury flashed across Liara's irises, indignant, determined.

"That asari was the only lead we had, and now – "

"She's dead, I know. I'm not deaf. You want answers, you'll get them. Just let me do the talking."

The younger asari kept her steps frozen, unperturbed by the placating assurance.

"Answers? She's dead and any shred of use she had is lost. ILE had an opportunity and they threw it away. I fail to see what there is to talk about."

The patronizing curve of Aethyta's frown did nothing to quell the muted, churning vehemence.

"I know," she conceded, "that's why it'll be me doing it. Can you handle that?"

"Fine," Liara bit out, impatient, resuming her brisk pace without dignifying the grating tone her father had adopted to check her temper.

Aethyta followed without further comment, the expanse of the interior corridor passing quickly as they proceeded toward the executive offices in clipped silence.

"Dr. T'Soni?" called an attendant, intercepting their approach.

"Yes?"

"Detective Anaya said to expect you. This way," she urged, appraising the pair of them with a passing glance as they pressed onward.

The remainder of the journey was spent in terse silence, Aethyta trailing behind in wariness as she watched Liara dog the footsteps of their escort, relentless.

It was only a short distance more until their path was brought to a halt, intended destination now before them. Anaya stood in stiffness against the entrance of a holding cell, demeanor composed, though her stoicism hinted at impatience.

"Aethyta," she acknowledged with a brief nod, expectant. "Dr. T'Soni."

"Detective," returned the matriarch, unmoved, but not unfriendly.

Liara said nothing.

"Let's not draw this out. See for yourself," gestured Anaya, stepping aside to allow the two visitors a better view.

Slumped onto the otherwise pristine tiling of the floor was the asari that attacked Williams, viscous purple pooled beneath the gaping wound in side of her head, fixed gaze permanent, vacant.

Liara kept her attention exclusively on the grisly scene at her feet, revealing nothing but persistent tension, jaw set, eyes cast downward, sickened. Aethyta's expression soured, brow furrowed in vexation.

"How did this happen?"

Anaya exhaled with reluctance, not exactly thrilled to recall the tale.

"Quickly, and methodically. A turian claiming to be a Spectre requested to interrogate the prisoner – said she had information the Council needed. Biometrics verified his identity. When we opened the cell he walked in, drew his sidearm, and shot her point blank."

"Where is he now?" prompted Aethyta, just short of a demand.

"Gone. His departure was confirmed at the landing dock but he refused to disclose his destination."

"He…murdered…your prisoner," began Liara, cold, resolute, facing Anaya for the first time. "And you let him go?"

"I had no choice."

"At least tell me, please," she added, threatening edge honed, "that she told you something useful."

The answer was clear before the Detective even opened her mouth.

"No."

"How _idiotic_ can you be?" sneered the information broker, intensity jarring.

"Even if I could go up against a Spectre and keep my head, I would have no authority to detain him, as you and your people know very well – "

"So not just incompetent, but a coward too?"

"Liara," rebuked Aethyta, wary, warning.

"Careful, T'Soni," returned Anaya, refusing to abide the younger asari's challenge. "I might be the only friend you have in the ILE."

"Why?" she laughed, caustic, undeterred. "Because tying my hands and sending my best operative away was somehow doing me a favor?"

"Yeah," conceded the Detective, succinct, defensive. "It was."

"Explain that to me, then, because if it you had left this up to me – "

"It is _not_ up to you. You are a civilian, as you apparently need reminding, and shit that disrupts my district is not your responsibility. Nor does it belong to your company, your advisor, and certainly not to your operatives that I conveniently ignore. It's mine – and I didn't have to bring you down here at all, so _yes_ , it was a favor, and when this ends, I won't owe you a goddamn thing."

Her unflinching disavowal unleashed the rage that had been roiling in disquiet, and the atmosphere exploded in lightning fashion, Liara stepping forward and slamming the Detective against the wall before she could react.

"Come within a _mile_ of TIG, and I will kill you myself."

Aethyta stirred behind them, malcontent, but Anaya was too quick. With a quick shift of limbs and a grunt of impact she had Liara on the ground, elbow bent painfully, useless, knee pressed into her back, grim voice in her ear dangerous, aggressive.

"Threaten me again."

"Enough! _"_ barked Aethyta, forcing Anaya to break her hold with an abrupt shove.

"Wait outside," she ordered her daughter, dragging her upright with little regard for her comfort.

"I am not – "

"Shut up and wait outside."

The remainder of her protest she kept to herself, flush with restraint, obeying the command with haste, fury cooled, but undiminished.

When she had gone, Aethyta turned back to Anaya, contrition noncommittal.

"I'd apologize for her, but I'm still deciding whether or not you deserved it."

Her jibe helped very little.

"I put my neck on the line for her, because I respect you both, but if she comes at me like that again I will fucking arrest her – and you, if you try to interfere."

Aethyta's mouth slanted, barest hint of a smile, laconic.

"No, you won't. She was out of line, but you let me handle her. You have bigger problems."

"No kidding," remarked Anaya, her own frustration evident.

"Investigation not going well?" probed her guest in mockery, feigning ignorance.

"Don't start with me."

"Oh, don't let me get in your way. You must be _very_ busy."

Anaya frowned, sensing the bladed criticism beneath the snide jokes.

"What should I have done then, Aethyta? Get myself killed? What is it you think I should have done?"

"Nothing," she answered, less acidic than moments prior, more final. "Keep that head."

"Anything else to add?" snapped the ILE officer, unimpressed. "Or can I get back to my _very busy_ job?"

"Please do, Detective. I was just leaving – I have a Spectre to track down."

Her cynicism was unmistakable, and Anaya could not help but bite.

"You? T'Soni would risk your life?"

Aethyta could not help but scoff, conviction foreboding, and clear.

"You have no idea."

* * *

 _ **Illium - Nos Astra**  
T'Soni Intel Group  
29 June_

Her first steps across the threshold were slow, stunted things, motion of her still-healing body not quite aligned with the will of her mind. On instinct she thrust a hand to her abdomen, a fruitless attempt to stifle the lance of pain that followed her strides. Carefully, she stopped, released the lingering tension with a silent exhale, then started over – an old habit she picked up after her spinal injury.

It had been some time since she last set foot in Liara's private suite, but it felt unchanged. Minimalist furniture was spread across a luminous interior, white floor tile glossed with light from the Nos Astra skyline, streaming through glass panel windows in flickering color.

Ashley traversed the remainder of her intended course with slightly more grace, stiffness loosening as she did so, making a point to keep a respectful distance from Liara, on whose personal space she was most definitely intruding. The asari in question sat at the edge of her bed, posture appearing relaxed, mind clearly preoccupied. She paid Ashley no acknowledgment, gaze torn elsewhere, transfixed on things unseen.

"Mind if I join the party?" broached the former soldier, her words quiet, smile thin as she nodded toward the open bottle resting on the low table to her right, elegant black label of minute contrast to the deep red within. Little of its contents remained.

"You should have gone home," replied Liara, drawn, even sad. "I told them not to let you in."

Ashley ignored the implied challenge, too familiar with the underlying exhaustion that spawned it.

"I asked nicely."

This, at least, earned a brief hint of amusement.

"That I doubt very much," she answered, pausing, as if overthinking. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know - mixed bag," offered Ashley, moving to join her counterpart, sighing in relief as her muscles relaxed into the softness of the mattress. "The bad news is, I'm permanently disabled. The good news is, I already was _before_ getting stabbed four times, so no harm done. Ready for action – as long as we rule out running, jumping, or any kind of physical exertion."

Liara stared in response, unmoved, her look a strange one.

"You and Shepard are so alike," she mused, remote. "You joke about the worst things."

Mention of Shepard seemed to have soured the mood, Ashley's attempt at levity all but evaporated.

"I can leave. Save you the trouble of kicking me out."

Liara released a breath, shaking her head in haste, almost apologetic.

"No – that sounded rude. I'm sorry. I'm glad to see you. I just thought not to expect you until morning."

"I heard what happened with Anaya," began Ashley, filling the silence with probing, unspoken concern. "Can you blame me for being worried?"

Liara snorted, demeanor split between humor and illness.

"You have more than enough to worry about. Let me handle the ILE."

Ashley frowned, displeased, even less pleased with the obvious attempt to placate.

"I had a feeling you would say that."

"A feeling?" posed the asari, irritation looming. "I assume my father spoke to you."

"She did hint at some things, yeah."

"Oh, she is _furious_ with me."

"Aethyta is your parent…and also kind of an asshole. Honestly, I would expect nothing less."

Liara, who had long since stomached this, appeared unmoved, pensive. Brooding.

"She is my parent," she agreed, glass touching her lips once more, "though I suspect she would prefer otherwise, now. She said a lot of things to me, about what I do. Despicable, she called it."

"Fuck whatever she said. None of this has been easy. You had good reasons for all of it. You still do."

"I _have_ done despicable things," amended Liara, unfazed, distant.

When Ashley offered no reply, the Broker continued, eyeing the expanse of the city before her with inscrutable focus.

"Do you ever wish you had never been dragged into this? That Saren had never landed on Eden Prime? Shepard found me on Therum, but after that I volunteered to stay. You never asked for any of this. I know I shouldn't dwell on these things, but I keep thinking – "

"That this is your fault?" supplied her companion, weighted with sympathy, with cognizance.

"It is," she confessed with certainty, having foreseen the protest and refusing it. "Hackett wanted Sam at that podium for his own reasons, and she agreed, but you…it was _my_ choices you paid for. My stupidity – my arrogance."

"I paid because whoever attacked me was fucking with you," corrected Williams, unable to stomach the despair in passive silence.

Liara met her gaze, hesitant, still tormenting herself.

"As long as you are the Shadow Broker, none of us will be safe," pressed Ashley, resolute. "If you gave that up – if you buried that name as if it really had died, you could leave tonight. Drop your contract, sell your company, leave this clusterfuck on Illium behind, and go _home_."

"You say these things – "

"But you would be miserable," she finished, undeterred. "Hackett thinks this is about Shepard, but he's wrong. You were born for the things you do, and the world needs you. Sam knew it. Whoever is trying to hurt you knows it. _You_ know it. Your father might be satisfied if you walked away, but you would hate her for it, and you would _still_ never be safe. Not on Thessia. Your name means too much. I doubt Aethyta has forgotten that."

"Then I am cursed no matter where I go," professed Liara, sullen, "and you are too."

Slowly, with purpose, in a gesture as unwavering as the person making it, she grasped Liara's hands in her own, forcing her attention away from the corruption of her own mind.

"Listen to me right now, Liara. _Nothing_ that has happened to me is your fault. Ok? Nothing. You owe me _nothing_. I treated you like shit when we first met, and still you did so much for me, without hesitation, even after I turned my back on the Normandy. I have far, far more to pay for than you."

The tightness in her throat did not dissipate, tears stinging pale blue, even as Liara tried to hide them.

"I could never let you walk alone. Don't ask me to."

It felt as if the galaxy had changed a thousand times over since their first meeting, and their lives with it. The resentment that once stretched between the sedate asari maiden and the fierce cynic soldier had tempered with shared loss, faded into nothing after Alchera placed vast distance between them, flickered and diminished at the onset of the war, then died with finality in its wake.

"How can I?" whispered Liara, hoarse, warmth of her palms unfading.

She never felt particularly moved by the grandiose and ethereal concept of fate, but somewhere deep within her mind she knew that her involvement with Shepard was written in the stars, predestined or no. The stirrings of this galaxy had converged to place him in it, and he was so uniquely suited to his position that it was almost as if he was not of this universe. He belonged to no one. They could be together until the end of their days, adventures unceasing, but even when he was dust, still he would belong to no one. Their bond was theirs, and it was not. Long ago she had accepted this.

But Ashley was not Shepard, no matter their equal and uncanny talent for gallows humor. She was just a colony kid built by her family, and the weight that carried. But she was brave where Liara was not, and she bore that burden with conviction. All of her choices were hers, and she chose to befriend someone she once envied and judged because she had been wrong, and she owned it. Ashley Williams was proud, even stubborn, but loyal. She had not once strayed from the friendship they built.

Liara had no words for her fear, to imagine that torn apart.

Ashley watched her with distinct wariness, not convinced that her outreach of trust had helped, that Liara was still aggrieved by pain unknown. The asari did nothing to hide the thin streaks lining her face, shining, and in their proximity, the flush of her skin was obvious. Her breath was close, scent of her exhale that of earth, and fruit unknown.

The slightest shift of her shoulders –

"Stop," ordered Ashley, not unkind, turning aside as she sensed Liara's impulse. "You don't mean that."

"I'm sorry," muttered the asari, tearing herself away.

"You're just confused – upset. You love Shepard."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, no longer capable of staying her tears. "I thought I would lose you too."

"I know."

"I…may have had too much wine."

"Yeah," answered Ashley, frown teasing, sarcastic. "Would never have guessed, T'Soni."

"I'm sorry," she said for the third time, torment she had briefly forgotten returned anew.

"I know you are. Forget it. You can sleep it off no problem, ok?"

"Ok," came the muffled agreement, its speaker having already reclined against the adjacent pillows. "Sleep seems like a very good idea."

"You can thank me later."

This time there was no answer, Liara either too tired or too inebriated to bother doing so. It was only a brief lapse in time before her breathing evened out, body turned on its side, wakefulness fading fast.

Ashley waited, moment of solidarity passed, replaced with a nameless dread that clawed her gut.

"Skipper," she spoke to the darkness, hoping, somehow, thousands and thousands of miles away though he may be, that her thoughts might catch his.

"You need to come home."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! Enjoy your week!


	7. Tree of Poison

**A/N:** Well we finally got some snow, but a rainy-ass spring is undoubtedly coming. Kill me.

* * *

 _ **Thessia -**_ _ **Armali**  
Kerintis_ _Residence  
1 July_

A charging blur of blue excitement was all she managed to glimpse before a tiny asari body collided with her knees, trapping her legs in an unyielding embrace.

Valya emitted a soft laugh, shock at the overenthusiastic greeting replaced with amusement. She lifted the toddler off the ground, settling her on her hip and meeting her expectant look of joy with a reserved smile of her own.

"Hey, doll," she offered, hint of mischief lighting her eyes.

"Will you show me how to reave?"

Her expression soured somewhat, taken aback, adequate response eluding her. The timely interjection of another presence saved her the trouble, calm but stern.

"Reila," she warned, arms folded across her chest. "Go wash your hands, please. Your aunt is too nice to tell you you got paint all over her legs."

The girl, Reila, ran off to obey her mother as soon as Valya lowered her to the floor, leaving the two adults to resume what had been a private conversation.

Since her arrival less than an hour previous, the two had chatted idly as they milled about the small kitchen preparing their evening meal, Valya content to listen to trivial updates and harmless anecdotes about the recent goings-on of her sister and niece. She had very little to say about her own life, deflecting any probing with clipped, noncommittal responses, seemingly immune. Reila's interruption had served as a welcome distraction, but Valya sensed that her sister's exasperation at her impassive vagueness was nearing its limit.

"Should I be concerned that she even knows what _reave_ means?" she tried, chopping the particular vegetable before her with emphatic diligence.

"Don't act so innocent. Every time you visit she talks about nothing but commandos for months."

"It's hardly as fun as she thinks. I never get to reave anyone anymore," she joked, her laugh thin.

"Stop," came the admonishment, frosty reminder that her humor on the subject was not a shared trait.

"Relax. She knows better than to take me seriously."

"She hangs on your every word. She admires you."

Her warning was met with a lighthearted snort, disbelieving.

"She should admire _you_. You built a life for her – a peaceful life. I could never do that."

"Valya."

"Elia," she returned, tone that of mockery.

A silence fell between them, the elder sister – Elia – undeterred by the implied dismissal.

"I am not as idiotic as you seem to think. Maybe you _were_ military, once, but you can't be now. You never talk about your missions, or your unit, or any of the normal things real commandos brag about. You disappear and I go years without seeing you, and you expect me to believe that's normal?"

Valya's mood paled with every word. She did not rise to the confrontation, gaze fixed elsewhere.

"You know I can't talk about what I do."

"But you wouldn't anyway," Elia retorted, answer colored with bitterness. "Did you know I used to think you were dead? All that time you were on Omega, doing goddess knows what. Reila worships you and I let her, for you, and you know it. And still you insist on lying."

Defeat undercut her accusation. It was worse than anger.

"I _was_ in the military. A long time ago," she added, her words quiet, but genuine. "Everything I've done since…please trust me when I say it is safer for you if I stay distant. Tell Reila I'm a terrible person – tell her whatever you want, if it helps you sleep at night. No need to lose any over me."

"No need? Is that supposed to make me worry _less_?"

"I was hoping it would stop you worrying at all, but _les_ _s_ is a start."

Elia was ill appeased.

"Would you really ask that of me? To leave you to your life, when you are so obviously miserable?"

"I have no recollection of ever claiming to be miserable," bristled Valya, unmoved.

"You show up here and you hardly speak. You get angry when I ask about you – you're angry now. I have no idea whether you eat or sleep enough, but somehow I doubt it. The only time you ever smile is when you're with Reila, and even then it looks like it's killing you. You _are_ miserable. I wish you would let me help you."

"Help me do what?" furthered Valya, soft, elusive.

" _Anything_ ," pleaded Elia, desperation revealed. "Tell me what to do. You don't have to go back. Stay with us here, we can figure it out, whatever it is."

For a moment, a wonderful, painful, ephemeral moment, Valya wavered. But it slipped away.

"I told you," she finally replied, cold edge renewed. "I do not have the luxury of a peaceful life."

"But you could, if you wanted it. If you stayed you would have a home, a family. Or one day even have the joy of starting your own. The way you are with Reila…you would be such an incredible parent."

Sadness of the moment passed still lingered, taunting.

"I wish that were true."

Elia knew, then, that her pleas were all but wasted, and she tasted bitterness once more.

"Are you going to suffer forever, then? Is it so important that it _must_ be you? There are no others that could do – whatever it is you do?"

This time, Valya did not waver.

"There's no one in the world like me."

* * *

 _ **Omega**  
Kenzo District  
1 July_

All of Omega was a luminous, miscreant shithole. The Kenzo District was just a shithole in its own way.

Twelve days had passed since Liara tasked her with tracking down their suspected shooter, and Miranda could no longer suppress the stirring of unease at the edge of her mind. Retracing the turian's chartered path from the Attican Traverse through the Terminus Systems had proved a redundant affair, confirming what she had already guessed: that he was hiding on Omega. Aria intercepted her before she could commence her search unnoticed, equal parts aid and warning, and since then she had done nothing but passively observe.

If Afterlife was the station's vibrant, provocative center, then Kenzo was its colorless, repulsive underside.

Wealth had no place among its populace, and the elite did not linger long. The workforce was comprised mostly of miners and the low-level merchants that sold to them, each scraping a living. Refugees, addicts, and runaways comprised those that did not. Gangs and panderers preyed on all, nightlife their racket of choice, and those that sought such entertainment did so to relieve desperation and illness, not for leisure.

Her time among its streets was disheartening, even sickening, but ultimately fruitless. Not once had she glimpsed her target, and so tightened the hold of her misgivings.

Miranda was loath to rely on the direction of Aria T'Loak. She was a candid individual, and altogether unapologetic, but there was still a meticulousness in all that she did. Miranda knew that keeping her position atop Omega was a far more byzantine effort than her image as warrior pirate would allow, and required as much guile as it did skill. Distrust was inherent. Even if her information had been given without the expense of credits, Miranda knew, with piercing certainty, that it was _not_ free.

Her suspicions worsened with every passing hour. Restlessness pricked her skin.

Had she been lulled into complacency by Aria's offer of assistance? Was this an elaborate attempt to corner and trap her? Betray her to the person she was supposed to be hunting? Perhaps that person did not exist, and Aria was running her in circles, her professed innocence a blatant lie. Undoubtedly Miranda was being watched, even as she clung to secrecy, but whether those watching her intended to gut her and discard her remained unclear.

Either way, there was no more waiting to be done. If this was a trap, she would spring it, and if not, she would drag her target out of his sanctuary, off this disgusting station, all the way back to the confines of TIG, where he would be spared very little mercy. He would face what he had done, or he would die.

Grim resolve now hardened, gaze sharp, she rose from her shadowed table in the marketplace. With quiet, measured steps she passed through the buzzing intersection of vendors and peddlers, ignoring the few brazen ones that tried to solicit her as she went. With luck no one physically hindered her, and she breezed through the glowing archway to the residential quadrant without delay.

The local apartment complexes were as dirty and run-down as everything else, though its flow of passerby was considerably less than the rest of the district. Home and safety were not synonymous to its residents, and those that traversed the pathways did so with haste. Remaining exposed for too long would draw questioning glances, unwanted attention. Even danger.

When she approached her intended unit – 1192, she did not stop, instead circling around the back alley, stench of garbage overpowering. Staking out this apartment had been easy. In less than a day she had memorized the comings and goings of its tenants, as well its exterior points of exploitation. Ultimately it had not mattered, as her target never emerged, but it was useful knowledge. She hoped it might compensate for how utterly unprepared she was for whatever awaited her on the interior.

Still, she had few other options. Every hour spent hesitating, the inevitable drew closer.

The digital lock barring the alley door was of decent make, but no challenge for the slicing cipher gifted to her omni-tool by the Broker herself. It clicked open with a flash of green, and Miranda slid inside. A blinking flash of red, and it relocked behind her.

No one witnessed her entrance. No sound broke the silence. No light flared.

Slowly, back nearly pressed against the wall, she dropped to a kneel, omni-tool lit once more. Only when it confirmed that no heat signatures were present did she relinquish her grip on her pistol, thin line of sweat against her palm.

She was alone.

With a muted exhale she stood, eye catching the outline of a weapon resting on a low center table, further into the apartment. From its length and design it was beyond question a sniper rifle, and her heart spiked in trepidation, and excitement. If this weapon implicated its owner in the murder of Traynor, then half of her job was already done.

She stepped across the threshold, raising her omni-tool to scan the serial number –

Two armored arms snaked around her throat and torso with such force that her shock died in her throat, her assailant dragging her backwards as he braced himself against the wall. Choking, cursing herself for neglecting the possibility of someone being cloaked, she struggled against his hold. He did not yield, further crushing her airway with neither noise nor mercy, intent alarmingly clear.

Clawing at his bicep with her right arm did not free her, but with desperation searing her lungs she was able to turn her head sideways, pressure against the front of her exposed throat granted fleeting relief. Her miniscule window of opportunity closing fast, arm around her midsection heaving with bruising force even as she raised her own, glow of familiar orange illuminating the dark.

Overload sparked against his armor before he could react, shock enough to slacken his grip. In one deft maneuver, she slipped from beneath his hold and turned to face him. His armor had been no help, but in the shadow of her glowing omni-tool it was clear her attacker was turian.

In trying to discern his identity, she had wasted precious seconds. She did not have time to plant her feet, nor had she fully regained her breath when he charged from the wall, his body connecting with hers with such momentum that the ground slammed against her back before she had even registered that he had moved.

He pressed his weight into her chest in an effort to pin her, but she would not make the same mistake twice. With a flailing, taloned hand he twisted one of her forearms above her head, but in his singular focus he miscalculated. As he leaned forward her free arm shot forward, jerking his mandible so hard that she heard something snap. His cry of pain was silenced as she thrust a jab into his throat, rolling out from beneath him as he slumped backwards.

Her victory was brief, her attacker not diminished, but now instilled with fury. They rose to their feet at the same time.

Miranda took half a step, pulsing blue curling around her wrist, shaky breath catching as she realized he had done the same –

Brilliant, crackling cobalt lit the room as it erupted with blinding intensity, brutal shockwave hitting her before the sonic boom. There was no protection as she was suddenly and violently thrown backwards, onslaught of pain as blinding as the flash of light. Her ears rang, vision black, mind lost, and time slipped away.

The turian did not stir.

Slowly, with blinking, watering eyes, she realized she could see. Her gaze found the floor, glass from the shattered windows glinting. She was lying on her side, sprawled where the explosion had thrown her. A wave of nausea rolled through her as she lifted herself upwards, breaths long and heavy, willing it to pass. The stinging above her eye that had been steadily growing reached its breaking point, and with a pained hiss she lifted probing fingers to her skull. They came back red, though the warmth and damp clinging to her forehead was enough to know she was bleeding.

Awareness of her injury snapped her back to reality, and memory of the fight that caused it. With unsteady limbs she managed to stand, raising the pistol she had been unable to draw at the onset of the ambush.

Her precaution was needless.

The turian was hunched against a counter in the kitchenette across the apartment, eyes vacant, dark blue pooled beneath him courtesy of the glass shard embedded in his neck. The combined force of their simultaneous biotic attacks had backfired, energy folding on itself before rebounding outward, destroying the space that contained it.

It was only through a stroke of luck that he was dead instead of her.

With sudden clarity the adrenaline she had called on dissipated, knees sinking to the floor as the latent shock and fear caught up with her. Her nausea returned anew, and she hated herself for the pathetic sound that scratched at her throat. But it was that same clarity that steeled her, labored exhale a calming one, picking herself up off the ground once more.

She did not recognize the turian, but doubts as to his involvement in the murder of Traynor had all but vanished – he was too skilled, too prepared, and too eager to kill. With minimal search she turned her attention to the rifle that had first drawn her gaze, its resting place yards away from where it started, outline stark against the other scattered debris.

Tentative palms lifted it, configuration light – lighter than she was expecting. Hard, unyielding coldness settled in her stomach as she glimpsed the symbol painted onto the barrel, marred slightly with use and wear, but unmistakable.

The coldness turned to dread, suspicion she had been harboring now a truth. Bloodstained fingers brushed over the symbol, dread uncoiling as she considered its meaning with quiet rage.

Spectre.

* * *

 _ **Citadel - Presidium**  
Northline Tower  
3 July_

Total darkness on the Presidium was impossible. Even with the station's simulated night cycle, the varying districts flickered with activity no matter the hour, a glittering mosaic of light and life.

Valya considered herself lucky to have established a position with the absence of both.

Northline Tower boasted over fifty stories, a monument of luxury and prestige among a cluster of lesser, smaller complexes. Its residents boasted the same, though they were relatively few in number – countless occupants had perished in the final stretch of the war, and many of the survivors fled the Citadel regardless, seeking a less volatile home elsewhere.

This, too, proved a stroke of luck for Valya, as it made it all the easier to break in. And far easier to find what she had been searching for, what had called to her since the first tendril of suspicion knotted itself into her gut:

A vantage point.

Disquiet gripped her as she descried her target, satisfaction grim, yet vindicating. A second target followed, joining the other. Valya did not stir, capturing all with utmost focus, thoughts wandering even as she did so, wondering if they sensed the finality of their actions. If they knew.

With little more than a few stolen moments, they had sealed their own fates.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading. Happy Sunday!


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